


Hey, what's eating you?

by hoegrove



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Upside Down, Alternate Universe - The Walking Dead Fusion, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Billy Hargrove & Maxine "Max" Mayfield Bonding, Billy Hargrove Needs a Hug, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Blood and Gore, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Gay Billy Hargrove, Good Babysitter Steve Harrington, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Past Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Steve Harrington is a badass, Strangers to Lovers, Violence, Zombies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:28:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23821582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoegrove/pseuds/hoegrove
Summary: In a world where the dead walk among the living, soldier Billy Hargrove has one goal: to get to Hawkins, Indiana, and find his step-sister Max. He doesn't expect to find love.or, theThe Walking DeadAU you didn't know you needed
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 82
Kudos: 182





	1. What Lies Ahead

**Author's Note:**

> And here it is -- first fic since 2012/13; it's been a while, whew.
> 
> The story is (kind of) based on a request for a _The Walking Dead_ AU gif-set I received and filled;  
> you can check it out here: [on tumblr // hoegrove](https://hoegrove.tumblr.com/post/614682755449733120/the-walking-dead-au-soldier-billy-king-steve)
> 
> And as always, thank you @ [taerangi](taerangi.tumblr.com/) for the beta 💖
> 
> for this chapter:  
> TW: minor canon typical homophobic language; minor character death

__

_When there’s no more room in hell, then the dead will walk the earth.  
__And the living won’t have a prayer cause it’s the dawn of the dead.  
_\- Dawn of the Dead

There was a faint smell in the air when he finally came to. His nose twitched; the scent, it was probably mold, wasn’t pleasant but still better than the stench he had to become used to within the past months. Or years? At this point, he honestly didn’t know anymore, nor did he care. Time had ceased to matter, as there were no more ‘important’ appointments to keep, meetings to attend, or dinner dates and family gatherings to cancel.

There was… _nothing_.

Billy blinked slowly, drowsily. Something, a cloth, he realized, had been shoved into his mouth, gagging him, making sure he couldn’t scream for help. Not that it mattered, there was no one who could’ve come to his rescue. He groaned around the _offensive_ fabric, as he tried to lift himself up, but to no avail. His wrists and ankles had been bound and were tightly secured to the bedposts, leaving him spread eagle on the mattress.

_Shit,_ Billy snarled as he bit into the gag, and harshly tugged on the ropes, trying to free himself. It was useless, he knew that much, could tell his body was close to its breaking point even before the restraints cut deeper into his flesh, making him wince in pain. This wasn’t how he was supposed to go out! True, he’d given up, but still, not like this! Not tied up like some fucking Christmas present ready for the taking! 

He started squirming in earnest. The bed jolted, screaked on the floor as the bedposts smashed against the wooden wall with a jarring thud– but he didn’t stop. Billy’s head was spinning, his breath ragged; he was dangerously close to slipping out of consciousness again as fat drops of sweat dripped down his temple. Whoever had brought him here and had tied him to the bed in the first place, must’ve had _some ideas_ for him but Billy wasn’t about to surrender to some sick fuck, who–

“Shit, what the hell–?!”

Before Billy could see the other person, he could feel his hands on his shoulders, holding him down with his weight. It was a young man, roughly his age, though slightly less built, more on the leaner side, with chestnut-colored hair, that was nothing less than wild. His grip on Billy’s shoulders remained firm, even as Billy stopped writhing, and instead trained his eyes on the other man’s face.

“Stop trying to kill yourself, soldier,” he said, not unkind, mere seconds before Billy went cross-eyed – _again_ – and the world turned black, “Ah, great.”

******

**_48 hours earlier_ **

****

_Welcome to Bumfuck-Nowhere, Indiana._

Billy eyed the road sign, grimacing to himself – Hawkins. It had taken him the better half of a month to make his way to the small Midwestern town, and it hadn’t been a comfortable journey. Walkers / the undead / infected – not that he cared much about terms, anyway, the only information he needed was how to get rid of them – and plunderers had been lurking practically everywhere, waiting for their chance to ambush him, and so he’d had to be on his toes 24/7. This, in turn, had put quite a toll on his body, and Billy knew he needed water and rest before he could even think about continuing his search. It was frustrating, but he’d come too far to be reckless now; it was as simple as that.

_Hold on, Max, I’m coming for you. Just… hold on._

Before the infection had started to spread and the world had (pretty much overnight) went down the drain, things between him and his step-sister had been… different. Strained, even.   
Billy had just turned ten when his mother had walked out of his life for good, leaving him with an abusive father, who had turned to the bottle more often than not, hoping to find his wife on the bottom of it, no doubt.  
Neil, his dad, had soon met other women and had even brought them home, but none of them ever had stayed long. Most proved to be ‘enough’ for one or maybe two nights worth of fun, then they left. Eventually, Susan and her daughter Maxine – _Max_ , as she loudly and repeatedly had proclaimed – came along. 

_Susan… I can’t even remember her face._

Thinking about it, it didn’t surprise him much. He had a hard time remembering his mother’s face on a good day, but Max had somehow stayed with him over the years. It probably had something to do with her ‘famous Max stink-eye’ she’d used to give him whenever he’d done something to royally annoy her. Ah, yes, good times. 

“Should’ve sent an address, Maxine,” Billy grumbled as he followed the road, all the while scanning his surroundings. It was uncomfortably quiet, and it was, in fact, giving him _the heebie-jeebies_. There were no singing birds, no other animals whatsoever going about their business, not even the occasional moan coming from a ‘stranded’ legless Walker. Billy found he didn’t mind the last one too much, but it was weirding him out nonetheless.  
Though, to be honest, it was kind of amusing, thinking about how much of a dump this town must’ve been to ‘scare’ off even the undead. Living in Hawkins obviously was like some sort of hell on its own. 

Max had called him in 1985, shortly after he’d graduated and joined the military, and had told him about Neil losing his job and how he’d been thinking about moving to Nowhere, Indiana. Back then, he’d felt for her but never said as much. Yes, Billy had listened to her bitching for a while, but in the end, had told her off– asking her to suck it up like the big girl she always _pretended_ to be.  
Now, of course, he would give his right arm to take back those words, and for once be the big brother she needed. 

In all honesty, he’d been bitter about a lot of things, and being sent away, naturally, was one of them, but now, eight years later, he knew it hadn’t been her fault. No, Neil had thought it better, had considered it so very smart, to send him away, to ‘get him back on track,’ as the school’s slogan promised. But, as usual, the joke had been on his dear old dad, because instead of getting him nice and ‘straightened’ out, Billy had met some of his best friends there. And sometimes fuckbuddies, too.

_Never thought I’d miss those guys so much._

Billy chuckled as he continued his march towards the town center.

******

The sun had just begun to set when Billy halted to rest his hands on his knees, bending forward and finally allowing his aching body a break. He felt his muscles cramping under the continuous strain he’d put on them, and even now, his legs were shaking, threatening to give out any second.

_Like a fucking rookie, messing up again, pushing too hard,_ he thought indignantly, as he tended to his calves, pressing into and massaging the sore muscles, his fingers stiff, less than nimble. It’d have to do for the moment, though. There wasn’t much more relief Billy could offer, or, better yet, _had time_ to offer, because the sky was already turning black and the air became colder. Looking for shelter for the night had to be his priority right now; everything else would have to wait.

_Benny’s Burgers. Beats sleeping in a tree, I guess._

Billy scrunched up his nose as he looked at the diner – which, to be fair, had seen better days – at the end of the road. The greyish blue paint had started peeling off the walls quite a while ago, and the windows were blocked with thick wooden boards and nails. Billy grabbed the doorknob, rattling it, but the door wouldn’t budge an inch.

_Someone must’ve blocked it from the other side,_ he assumed, as he bit his lip, hard.

He smacked his lips, took a few steps back, and tilted his head up. No, climbing the building was off the table for obvious reasons. Given his body’s current state, he’d probably fall and maybe even break a bone, it wasn’t worth taking the risk. Plus, Indiana nights weren’t warm enough to sleep under the stars without catching death anyway.

Next to him, in one of the small parking lots, a dead roach, belly up, caught his eye. “You and me both, buddy,” he chuckled bitterly, as he contemplated his options, and–

A moan, gradually getting louder as it drew nearer, had his hair stand on end. It was like nothing he’d ever heard or ever wanted to hear again, and it was always followed by the unmistakable sound of body parts being dragged down the concrete. They were coming; must have caught a whiff of him, had probably even seen him wandering through town, not that it mattered, now that three Walkers were lumbering towards him, each step slow and arduous.

Billy gritted his teeth, his eyes on the infected, all the while walking backward cautiously, trying not to trip over his own feet. He knew, he had to put distance between himself and them, and fast! The undead wouldn’t suddenly break into a run, chasing him, but they also wouldn’t get tired or stop pursuing him, they never did. More often than not, Billy had witnessed people getting cocky, underestimating their stalkers’ endurance, just to find themselves cornered and devoured by them in the end. By then, there’d been nothing he and his squad could’ve done to save them, fighting a herd of Walkers without heavy artillery and with only a handful of men was like trying to put out a wildfire by pissing on it.

_There’re three of them I can see. God knows how many are still lurking close by._

Sure, shooting them in the head, destroying their brains, was the fastest and ‘easiest’ way to dispose of any Walker, but as Billy had learned the hard way, it didn’t always prove to be the safest course of action. Even though the undead weren’t intelligent, let alone possessed the capabilities to come up with plans and strategies, their hearing worked fine, and Billy, being the ignorant bastard, he was, hadn’t taken that into account. A mistake he swore never to repeat as he not only almost had lost his life that day but had endangered his friends’ lives as well.

“Shit, take the hint and fuck off.” Billy threw a quick glance over his shoulder, with the Walkers still hot on his heels and the road reaching its end, he would have to come up with something quick. There wasn’t much to work with, except a large house, which essentially screamed _BIG MONEY_ , when Billy came closer. Only the forest lay beyond, pitch black and quiet.

_Yeah, not going there,_ he thought, as he took in the size of the residence, the blocked entrance as well as the windows, which were relatively high up and therefore too hard to reach and break. It was his best shot– finding a way inside, preferably before becoming some Walker’s dinner and hiding out until the next morning. 

“Fucking apocalypse,” he swore, as he rounded the house and hopped over a waist-high fence, nearly tripping as his legs wobbled dangerously. Just what he needed right about now, his body giving him the finger!  
The fence, obviously, wouldn’t deter the undead from following him for too long, but it would buy him enough time to reach the glass doors at the back of the house, and find a way inside. He ignored the garden furniture lying around and–

Billy cried out in surprise as the earth suddenly gave out beneath him and sent him plummeting to the floor of the pool. His head dropped to the concrete, his chin hitting with enough force to make his back teeth audibly click together, while the impact knocked the air out of his lungs, leaving him gasping and breathless. Billy tried to lift himself up on shaky arms, still coughing, blinking rapidly, while kicking at the tarp that had caught his legs and had almost rendered him immobile. Pain shot up his spine in hot waves as he brought some distance between himself and the spot where he’d landed a second ago, and pressed his back firmly against the cold wall.

His head was spinning – something, _blood_ , dribbled down his chin and neck – and he could almost feel the forming bruise on his chest, but he had been lucky. Again. A fall like the one he’d taken, could easily kill a man, or, at the very least, leave him easy prey for– yeah, for pretty much everything and everyone out there. Breathing still labored, Billy tried to gather his thoughts. He was trapped, in some rich douchebag’s **fucking empty pool** , no less, with no way out. Like a sitting duck. Had the situation been any different, Billy would’ve probably laughed at himself, some _highly trained fucking soldier_ he was, but… right now, he couldn’t quite bring himself to do just that.

He closed his eyes, blindly fumbling for the gun on his belt. It was his best bet, he knew it was, but he also knew that the gunshots would alert even more Walkers of his whereabouts.

They were close, it was only a matter of time until they would find him–

_Five left,_ Billy cursed after checking the clip, then chambered a round by jacking the slide to the rear and letting it go. He thought of the combat knife he carried in his belt, and sure, it was sharp and deadly, but also very limited. Too limited to _somewhat safely_ fight the undead in the dark.

_Screw it, and screw the safety, too_ , he mused, as he gripped the gun with both hands, hoping, _praying_ for his and Max’s sake, they were both up to whatever the undead would throw at them. Yeah, his 9mm Beretta semi-automatic pistol had become one of, if not the most faithful companion since the _end of the world_ had begun, but still, he regretted not upgrading to something with just _a tad_ more firepower when he’d had the chance.

There was a thud next to him– It sounded like the proverbial sack of shit smacking a slab of concrete.

Startled, Billy jerked the gun up, letting muscle memory take over and-

“Don’t shoot, asshole, you gonna sic the whole fucking herd on our asses.”

“What–”

“Shut up and take this.” Like an afterthought, one Billy didn’t appreciate much, he added, “Try not to die too fast.”

It was too dark to see the other man’s face, so Billy went by sound rather than by sight as he followed the tall figure’s movements, who was now reaching for something. Said _something_ landed next to him a second later, and Billy, without sparing it a second thought, scrabbled for it, and–

_A pitchfork,_ he realized, and shakily stood up. The wooden handle felt warm, _safe_ , in his hands as he drove forward, plunging it into the Walker’s stomach, walking it back until it hit the other side of the pool with an ungodly groan. It was a music of its own, only ‘disturbed’ by the sound of two body’s dropping heavily to the grass. The man, whoever he was, apparently knew his way around the undead, it was a relief.

“You almost finished down there?” he asked and squatted down.

“Almost,” Billy grunted as he pulled back before thrusting forward again, burying the tines in the Walker’s head. He pushed, hard, sending the undead to the ground, where it twitched, then became still – finally.

“Nicely done. I’m glad you’re not completely useless, had my doubts when you fell into my trap,” the other smirked. “Thought it killed you, too, and wanted to finish the job before you turned, but hey, for what it’s worth, I’m impressed you’re still kicking.” He smacked his lips, considering his next move. “You good? You’re not–”

“I’m not infected. My head’s killing me, and I came _fucking_ close to biting my _fucking_ tongue off, thanks to you, but other than that, I’m fine, so _get me the fuck outta here_.”

“My, you kiss your mother with that mouth?” The guy laughed, amused by Billy’s _bitch’s dead_ before he extended his hand towards him. “C’mon, and grab that fork for me, might still need it.”

Billy grumbled. The other hadn’t left much room for discussion, so he reached for the handle again, trying to wrench it free without getting too close. There was a sickening noise when he pulled the pitchfork back, goosebumps shot up and down his arms, and he hurriedly went back to the other.

“There, now pull me up, dude.”

“Yeah, yeah. Name’s Tommy, by the way,” the guy – Tommy – offered as he struggled to pull Billy up, then quickly took a few steps back. It was apparent he didn’t trust him, and Billy didn’t mind, could relate as he looked him over. As far as he could tell now, Tommy must’ve been around his age, maybe even a bit older.

“Billy,” he said offhandedly. “Thanks for… saving me. I guess.”

Tommy shrugged. “It’s whatever, man,” he said, then gestured for Billy to follow. “C’mon, it’s cold as balls, we can continue this inside.”

It was… tempting.

The residence seemed safe enough, Billy had concluded as much, before he’d taken his tumble down the pool, but he didn’t know Tommy. Didn’t know if the other wouldn’t try to strangle him in his sleep, and–

“Dude, I just saved your stupid ass, come **the fuck** on,” Tommy all but growled as he turned around to face Billy again. _Patience was a virtue_ , they said, too bad Tommy had never considered himself particularly _virtuous_. “I get it, you don’t trust me. I don’t trust you, either, but– just– _get inside_.”

“Okay, okay. Chill, dude.” There was something about Tommy, Billy couldn’t quite put his finger on it, that made him wonder. He was an asshole, alright, everything about him practically screamed _BULLY_ – _takes one to know one_ , Billy thought, smiling grimly – and yet, Billy knew, sort of sensed, that he would be safe tonight. Would, dared he hope, maybe even get more than two hours of sleep and–

“Bedroom’s upstairs,” Tommy said as he blocked the glass doors with thin boards – they wouldn’t hold off the infected but would at least offer protection from their curious eyes – and drew all curtains closed.

“Help me with this.” He waited until Billy had grabbed the other end of a bookshelf, then started pushing. It wasn’t a proper barricade, not even close, but sufficient enough, Billy mused.

“So, upstairs?”

“Mm, first door on the right. Lock it, just to be safe.”

Billy nodded, then headed upstairs. This – _whatever it was_ – felt like the weirdest sleepover imaginable, and yet, after he’d locked the door, had peeled off his clothes – dropping them to the floor, not caring about folding whatsoever – and had let his head hit the soft cushion, he found, that it could’ve ended out worse.

******

“Son of a bitch,” Billy groaned as he got up from the bed, carefully raised his arms above his head, and stretched himself until he heard his sore joints crack. He felt about a hundred years old, and every crack, no matter how small, seemed to add ten years to that number. Well, at least he wasn’t dead or undead – right?  
He padded over to where he had dropped his pants and put them on, quickly assessing his surroundings. Natural light flooded the room through loosely hanging blinds, and– yeah, it wasn’t impressive at all. The wallpaper and the curtains seemed like a matching set with a grid pattern, there was a desk, a chair lying on the ground – it missed a leg, Billy noticed – and a simple wardrobe. Whoever had previously lived here obviously hadn’t known the first thing about interior design or simply didn’t care enough. Billy could relate. 

His shirt reeked of dried sweat and blood – it was something he had grown accustomed to – as he pulled it over his head, then grabbed his jacket. It was too warm to wear it during the day, but with the undead swarming the streets, it was safer to keep your belongings close to the body at all times, weapons at the ready.

“Oh, look who’s up,” Tommy drawled from the other end of the hallway, his arms crossed in front of him as he leaned against the doorframe. “Slept like the dead, huh?”

“You can say that again,” Billy rubbed the back of his neck with a lopsided grin. “I appreciate you letting me crash here, man, I needed that.” He made his way over to Tommy, followed him inside ‘his’ room. A guest room? Billy couldn’t tell, nor was he particularly interested in the other’s choice, so he decided to let it rest and quickly peek out of the window, scanning the road. It was empty, save for a few cars which not only had been wrecked but obviously cannibalized for spare parts. Nothing new, not even an uncommon sight these days. Still, it made something inside of Billy ache– he missed his old car, wondered if _she_ had suffered the same fate.

“So, tell me, Billy, what’s a soldier doing in Hawkins of all places? Been a while since I ran into any military, and didn’t expect it here.” Tommy unscrewed the lid of a water bottle, took a sip, and then tossed Billy another bottle. “You _are_ a soldier, right? Didn’t steal some poor bastard’s clothes, I hope.”

“Why are you doing this? You saved my ass, let me sleep here, and you’re sharing supplies. It’s… not what I’d expect these days.” Billy wondered, then took a quick swig from the bottle. Though the water tasted a bit stale, like it’s been there for a while, Billy still had to force himself to put the cap back on, and not finish it all at once.

“Fuck if I know.” Tommy flopped down on the bed and shifted to get comfortable. “Seemed like the right thing to do. I mean, with the dead walking the earth and shit, the living should look out for each other, don’t you think?”

Billy took the chance to actually look him up and down. He had freckles, and a lot of them, dark and decidedly unruly hair, which definitely needed a cut rather sooner than later, and was wearing a black shirt and jeans. Before the _end of the fucking world_ had started, Billy thought, he might have – depending on the level of alcohol in his blood – hit on him. Tommy was, in fact, handsome, even under all the grime and dirt that came with living in a post-apocalyptical world. 

“I’d drink to that,” Billy said and settled at the end of the bed. “I didn’t answer your question before, I am a soldier.” He took a deep breath, “I came here looking for my sister. It’s dumb, I know, she’s probably long gone, but I… just had to come and see for myself.”

Tommy hummed. “I get it, I’d do the same.” The bedsprings creaked as he shifted again. “I’m actually looking for someone, too. An old… friend. If your sister’s still out there and alive, he might be able to help you find her.”

“Oh yeah?” Billy raised a brow, voice laced with disbelief.

“There’s a chance,” Tommy shrugged, “and that’s more than you had a minute ago, so there. Come on, I gotta show you something.” He stood up from the bed, ignored yet another creak from the bedsprings, and beckoned Billy to follow him before he left the room.

Tommy went down the stairs with Billy trailing behind him, keeping his distance, which was fine. They crossed the foyer and the kitchen, then reached the living room. It was a mess, worse than Billy remembered from the night before, but his gaze still wandered around, finally landing on what Tommy had wanted to show him, it was an oil painting. Billy tilted his head up to get a better look at the – seemingly – perfect family. A man, rather stern-looking, but still handsome, a beautiful woman with delicate features and luscious brown locks, definitely a few years younger than the man, too, and–

Billy’s eyes widened a little.

_Preppy_ , he thought as he eyed the teenager, who was quite literally _the best of two worlds._ Distinctively handsome like the father, yet pretty, with big eyes and, Billy chuckled, a good head of hair, just like the mother.

“That’s Steve. You slept in his room last night… He’s the one I’m looking for.”

“Him?!” Billy snorted loudly and shook his head. “Jesus Christ, man, I hate to break it to ya, but a pretty boy like him? He’s either dead or someone’s bitch by now. Just look at him! That’s no fighter, not even half a fighter. How the hell is he supposed to help me find my sister!” he demanded as he, visibly aggravated, tapped his finger against painting-Steve’s face.

A wolfish grin spread across Tommy’s face when Billy glanced over his shoulder. “What?”

The grin just deepened. “How about you go grab those water bottles we left upstairs, and I’ll tell you everything you need to know about that _pretty boy_ over breakfast?”

******

‘Breakfast’ had been a quiet affair at first, where they had pried open two cans of soup – one tomato, one chicken noodle soup – and hadn’t even bothered to try to heat them up. Somewhere in the middle, they had switched cans and had continued their slurping. The soup hadn’t tasted as bad as Billy had imagined, and he’d actually enjoyed eating it – as much as he could have, given its cold state.

“So that guy, Steve,” Tommy said as he dipped a finger in the left-over tomato soup, then licked it off, “And yeah, I know, it sounds fucking lame now, but when we were still in high school, he practically ran the place, everybody called him _King Steve_ , and wanted to be his friend–”

“ _King_ Steve?” Billy sucked in a particularly long noodle, loud and obnoxious. “Dude, that’s no _King_. He’s a _pretty little_ _princess_ on a good day.”

“You don’t know him like I do.” Tommy shrugged. “Steve and I go way back; we grew up together, and, yeah…” He stopped mid-sentence, looking for the right words, “I’d like to think we were best friends, but things got weird. He became this ‘ _King Steve’-persona,_ and I followed him around like some stupid puppy-dog, or… well, actually, at some point, I clung to him like a fucking leech.”  
It wasn’t a pleasant memory, Billy noticed, as Tommy lowered his gaze and busied himself by picking at a loose thread on his shirt. “What’s your trip down memory lane got to do with me looking for my sister, Tommy?” he asked, surprising himself with how patient he sounded.

“Yeah, uh, as I said,” Tommy cleared his throat, “he used to babysit. A lot. And I know you don’t believe me because he doesn’t look like it, but with Steve, it was like… I don’t know.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “With him… you just _knew_ everything would turn out okay. And after everything that’s happened, I– I wanted to feel that again if it makes any sense.”

“Guess it does.” Billy considered Tommy’s monologue, unsure what else to say. “What happened?”

“We had a falling out over someone he was dating. Total _miss priss_ , if you ask me.” He was back at picking at the thread, his shoulders tense. “She fucked him up good, and I was a jealous asshole, so yeah, one thing led to another and– we never talked again. I moved to Atlanta after graduation, end of story.”

“It’s not, though.” Billy chugged down the last of his stale water and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Something’s changed, and I’m not talking about the fucking apocalypse out there. So, what is it, Tommy-boy? You ready to admit that you _still_ have a giant hard-on for the _princess_ or–”

“It was my fiancée’s idea to find Steve.”

_Well, shit._ Billy snapped his mouth shut quickly, he knew where the story would be going now, and he already regretted his words.

“What happened to her?”

“The same that happened to everybody else.” Tommy’s eyes had glazed over as if he was no longer there with Billy, but… _somewhere else_. “When shit hit the fan, we tried to get back to Hawkins, to our families. We made it, too, but ran out of gas eventually, so we had to walk the rest of the way and… she got bit.” He halted when emotion welled up inside him, and he had to clear his throat a few times before he could continue to speak, “I turned my back to her for like a second, but then– she screamed, and that thing, it took a fucking chunk right outta her leg!” Tommy wiped angrily at his eyes, but there were tear streaks on his cheeks, and his face was flushed, freckles standing out even more against the red skin. 

“I knew I had to get her away from there, and I knew we were close to old McCorkle’s farm, so I took her there and… and then we waited.” He hiccupped and wiped at his eyes again. “The fever hit her soon after and hard, it was like she– she was burning from the inside out. She wasn’t coherent most of the time, just– shortly before she, you know… she told me it was _alright_. She said she didn’t blame me, and– and that she… she was glad it was her and not me.”

“Shit, I’m sorry, Tommy.” Billy put a hand on Tommy’s shoulder and squeezed gently, going for somewhere between comforting and reassuring. “I don’t know what to say, man. I’m so sorry.” And Billy, he’d lost his fair share of friends to the infected, had seen them turning. Still, it had to be different– losing a loved one, a partner, the person you were supposed to spend your life with? He cut the thought short.

“I ran.”

Billy felt Tommy gripping his hand, his fingers were cold, clammy, and he was shaking. The guilt was tangible in his voice, every fiber of his body was oozing it.

“I couldn’t deal with it, so I ran.” He choked on his words. “When she turned and came for me, I froze. All I saw was Carol, the girl I fell in love with, and then… I fuckin’ left her.” Tommy hung his head, desperately trying to keep his emotions in check. All the pain and regret– it was too much, had been building up for too long, and was weighing heavy on his heart.

“She knew I wouldn’t be able to do it when the time came, so she– she never even asked for it,” Tommy gritted out between clenched teeth. “I should’ve done it, I fuckin’ owe her that much.”

“You…” Billy hesitated, then “…still can. You should be the one to do it.”

_Don’t be weak, don’t be selfish_ , Billy wanted to add but when Tommy squeezed his hand and nodded, his face flushed, full of anguish and tears dripping down his cheeks–

Billy was glad he hadn’t. 

******

They had left the Harrington residence half an hour later, had made their way to town’s center. It was a lovely day, the sun was beaming, and it was warmer than the day before. The best part, though, was that they had managed to avoid any close encounters with the undead so far.

Billy wiped his brow with the back of his hand and glanced over to Tommy. The other had been awfully quiet this whole time, and Billy could only imagine what was going through his head. Would he find Carol at the farm? And even if he did, did he have what it took to put her out of her misery? Billy couldn’t say and didn’t feel like guessing, either.

Tommy sighed as he gazed down the road to his right.

This was it. This was where their ways would part.

“What happens afterward?” Billy asked. “Will you keep looking for this _King Steve_?”

“Yeah. I mean, I guess,” Tommy said, then looked over to Billy and pulled his lips into a lopsided smirk, “You were right, you know? I had a big ol’ crush on Steve, and yeah, I rubbed a few out, thinking about him.” When he noticed the corners of Billy’s mouth twitching up, he playfully punched his arm and grinned when Billy let out a laugh.

Sometimes, it was easy like that, and no words were needed.

“You’re alright, Billy. Take care, okay?” Tommy nodded his head as if he were tipping an invisible hat. “I’ll head back to Steve’s once it’s done.”

“Okay, I’ll try to meet you there. With Max.” Both of them knew their chances of meeting again were slim, but neither felt like acknowledging it. “You take care, too, Tommy. Good luck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! :) Any comments and feedback are appreciated.
> 
> Come and yell at me on [tumblr](https://hoegrove.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/hoegrove)! <3
> 
> _What do you think, would canon Billy survive the zombie apocalypse?_


	2. Made To Suffer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is - chapter 2!  
> Thank you all so much for the comments, kudos, and love! I can't even begin to tell you how much I appreciate every single one of you!  
> Just in case: if you feel like I'm missing a warning / a tag, please tell me, so I can fix it! :) 
> 
> And as always, thank you @[taerangi](https://taerangi.tumblr.com/) for the beta 💖
> 
> for this chapter:  
> TW: light gore; zombies / description of zombies; minor character death

__

_And in those days people will seek death and will not find it.  
_ _They will long to die, but death will flee from them.  
_ \- Revelation 9:6

Billy watched Tommy’s retreating figure for a moment, waiting for him to disappear behind the next bend before he started walking down the street, passing a shop – _Camping & Hunting_, it said on a plate – on his way.  
As it’d turned out, Tommy had never met Neil or Susan but still had remembered his dad talking about ‘new folks coming to town,’ and how they’d bought a place somewhere down Cherry Lane. And though he knew he couldn’t be sure, Billy figured Cherry Lane was as good a place to start as any other in Hawkins. (Tommy had agreed.)  
  
 _Jesus_ , Billy thought as he walked by yet another wrecked, half-cannibalized car then swerved to the side, padding over a patch of grass to avoid a _legless_ _Walker_ – he snickered at his own ‘joke’ – that was half-lying, half-sitting in the middle of the road. It groaned, stretched its arm, and tried to grab him, but Billy ignored it and kept going.  
  
This part of town was definitely ‘greener’ than the rest of Hawkins, and Billy could see the appeal of living here. Once he was old, gray, preferably senile, and had lived his life to the fullest, that was.  
The houses were farther apart and set back from the street, he noticed as he made his way past some overgrown flower beds, filled with weed and wild grasses. All things considered, it was nice, but still paled in comparison to his home back in California, and-  
  
Billy scrunched up his nose at the _general smell_ of Hawkins _.  
  
_ “Cow shit,” he muttered, then looked up and squinted at the road sign he’d seen from afar.  
  
 _Cherry Lane. Fuckin’ finally!  
  
_ In the distance, Billy could make out the forest line again, and while he usually wouldn’t have cared much about that, he now couldn’t help but shift somewhat anxiously from foot to foot. He just hoped he wouldn’t have to track Max in there. Hell, he _prayed_ for his sister to have been smart enough to not enter the forest in the first place! Fighting, or even worse, running on a floor which mostly consisted of uneven terrain, strange vegetation, slippery moss, and stones, wasn’t the best idea. Like, _at all_.

An abandoned pickup at the side of the road caught his attention and made Billy hasten his steps. The car had obviously seen better days, given the large dent in its rear, and it was hard to tell for how long it had been sitting here, but even blind, he would’ve recognized it as his father’s.  
And Billy didn’t know how to feel about that– on the one hand, he’d found something connected to his _family,_ but on the other hand, there was this gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach, telling him that it didn’t bode well for them that the car was, in fact, still here.  
  
Billy sighed, scratched the back of his head, and then let his gaze wander from one end of the street to the other, occasionally pausing to make sure he wouldn’t miss even the slightest movement. There was none; no one was nearby, dead, or alive. He sighed again, and, even though he hated to admit it, wished Tommy had accompanied him on his search for the house because the silence was beginning to take a toll on him.  
  
 _Please let that be it,_ Billy thought as he approached the house opposite of his dad’s pickup.

A concrete driveway led up to a carport, the door was still propped open, and Billy was no _Sherlock Holmes_ , alright, but it didn’t take much of a genius to figure out what _probably_ had happened: Neil, Susan, and Max had tried to get away, another car had rammed the pickup, pushed it off the lane, and then, yeah– someone else, a friend, a neighbor, might have tried to help them but Billy knew chances were slim. Compassion had been one of the apocalypse’s first casualties.

Billy wet his dry lips with his tongue as he looked up the narrow staircase that ended at a door. The side door, he supposed.  
It wasn’t barred, and even the shutters on the windows were still open, so his family – it didn’t sit right with him thinking of them as _his family_ when all he cared about was finding Max – probably hadn’t tried to hold out in there.

_They might have left when the first wave hit,_ Billy concluded as he rounded the house, combat knife at the ready.  
Shooting his gun was a risk he wasn’t willing to take, especially with Tommy’s warning about a herd still hanging in the air. Even at the beginning, when everyone had genuinely believed that humans would win in the end, taking on a herd had bordered on the impossible– the memory still sent shivers down his spine, but Billy willed himself to keep going.

The front door dangled from one hinge, seemingly holding on out of sheer goodwill, and served little purpose at this point. Billy squeezed through the gap, entering the enclosed front porch, and moved towards the screen door. It slid open with a faint creak, that told him it definitely needed a shot of the _good old WD-40_ , then he slipped inside, his muscles tense and ready for whatever was awaiting him.

It was quiet, and _dead_ silence greeted him when he walked through the living room. He figured he had gotten lucky that no one had thought of closing the shutters, leaving the room well-lit and easy to pass through.

Billy stepped over the remains of a chair then stopped at the bookshelf next to the kitchen door. He snorted and rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to knock over a dusty copy of _The_ _Holy Bible_.

Memories of Neil shoving a Bible in his face welled up inside him– yelling about _God knows what_ that had always pretty much boiled down to ‘ _no son of mine is gonna be a fag._ ’  
Yeah, no, Neil had never been much of a _good Christian_ , and Billy doubted he’d changed over these past years.

Billy flicked through the pages of the book, grimacing. _It says_ _Jesus hated figs, not fags. Asshole._

He put the book back, quickly sobering up as he entered the kitchen. There were no signs of a fight, no blood on the floor, no broken dishes, and Billy, for a second, dared hope that Neil, for once in his life, had been a good husband and step-dad and had taken Susan and Max to safety before it had gotten too bad. Then again, his pickup was ‘parked’ outside, and they wouldn’t have come far on foot, so it was perhaps smarter not to expect too much.

Billy took a deep breath as he reached the hallway. It wasn’t as wide as the one at the Harrington residence and didn’t offer much space to duck, defend or fight, so he gripped the handle of the knife even tighter as he trod carefully, listening for any sounds whatsoever. But all he heard were his footsteps, slow and wary, and the beat of his own heart in his ears.

He made his way over to a partially open door and gently pushed it with the tip of his foot before he stepped inside.

It was a mess. The ' _an undead had gone on a rampage, and this was what was left of it'_ type of mess Billy was used to by now, but still felt humbled and anxious when he saw it.  
He let his eyes wander over the movie posters on the wall and finally focused on the clothes that were scattered on the floor and the bed. They were small, too small for an adult, and Billy felt his heart sink to his stomach.

_Blood_.

There were smears of dried blood on the otherwise creamy bedding. Billy’s hand was shaking as he reached for the blanket to yank it away and–

_Nothing_.

Billy closed his eyes, feeling dizzy with nerves, and released a shuddery breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. He had been so sure. Had tried to prepare himself mentally to find Max under the soft fabric, but there was nothing; nothing except a teddy bear – and Billy couldn’t quite remember Max being into stuffed-animals, but then again, he hadn’t cared too much about her back then – and a small pillow.

_Thank God_ , he thought as he sank down on one knee next to the bed, sitting on it was something Billy just couldn’t do right now and allowed himself a moment to breathe. His hand was still shaking as he reached for the top drawer of the nightstand and hauled it open. There wasn’t much in there, and he was grateful they weren’t closer in age. Finding a condom or lube would’ve scarred him for life. Max was his _little_ sister, and even though he was aware she would turn 19 this year (he would make sure she would), in his eyes, she would remain as pure as the freshly driven snow.

Billy grabbed the little notebook that sat at the bottom of the drawer, and skimmed through the pages, looking for any clue that might help him find Max. He blinked when something that had been stuck between two pages fell out and landed in his lap. A photo?

“Damn it, Max,” he smiled when he felt an unexpected twinge of melancholy. He hadn’t seen the picture in a while, obviously, but he still remembered not hating it as much as he had pretended to.  
Gently, Billy rubbed his thumb over photo-Max’s face. They were both much younger, Billy guessed Susan had taken it only days before Neil had sent him away, so he must have been 15, close to 16, while Max had been eleven at that time.

“Easier times, huh?” Billy chuckled and looked at his younger self; there was the mullet – _Christ_ , he’d actually forgotten about the time he’d been _rocking_ , _thank you very much_ , a mullet – and, of course, there was the ever-present scowl on his face, but at least he had put an arm around Max’s shoulders for the picture, and she was even smiling a little, it was _kind of_ cute.

Outside Max’s room, wood creaked.

Billy froze.

_Footsteps_.

He heard footsteps. They were slow and sounded like one foot was dragged behind the other, like a limp rag. And then–

“Dad…?” Billy whispered under his breath, staring at the mangled figure on the door sill.

That thing–

It wasn’t Neil, it wasn’t his father but–

Billy felt a lump in his throat when he tried to swallow, could feel his heart in his mouth when _it, Neil,_ crept closer.

“Shit, no!” Billy recoiled in horror and instinctively flung himself on the bed, rolling until he felt the edge of the mattress and got on his feet again. With his back to the wall, he straightened up and fumbled for his knife, only to realize he’d dropped it while putting distance between Neil and himself.

_Great. Just great.  
  
_ “Dad, _please_! _Stop_!”

Neil didn’t stop, his bloodshot eyes darted over Billy. His trademark stare was still there, but there was nothing behind those eyes, no real life – not anymore.

“Dad!” Billy tried again just as Neil turned his head towards him, looking him directly in the eye. And, for a second, Billy thought that he could turn to stone from the sight alone. His jaw was dislocated, _God_ , it looked like it was _three inches_ from where it was supposed to be, and–

There it was, stuck to what used to be a mouth, in between blood-stained teeth.

It looked like something you’d pull out of your shower drain.

A strand of hair. Bloody, dirty, tangled, and yet, all Billy could see was that distinctive shade of red he so well remembered.

Billy’s head buzzed, and he felt as if all the air had suddenly left his lungs. Nothing had ever felt so unbearably heavy, and even as Neil groped and moaned for him, tried to find a way around the bed, he couldn’t move a muscle.  
He could only watch as _his father_ drew closer, dragging one ripped leg behind, _hell_ , Billy could see the bones in some places and felt his stomach tighten more– Neil was rotting away. But he was still looking at Billy with those empty, dead eyes, stretched his hand towards him and–

Billy ducked.

Fear and anger had gripped him just in time. He averted Neil’s hand and scurried backward until his arm connected with a bedside lamp.

“Did you _fucking_ eat her?! Did you eat _my sister_?” Without giving it much thought, Billy gripped the lamp and swung, felt the stand connect with Neil’s skull, could feel the cold skin against his own, it was like crinkled old paper.

“You were supposed to take care of her!” Billy screamed and pushed Neil back.

He didn’t care about getting scratched or even bitten anymore. Max was gone, and she wouldn’t come back, so what was the point of him surviving?

There was none!

As if on autopilot, watching himself dealing with Neil, Billy knocked him to the ground, going straight after him as he grabbed the pistol from his belt.

“You were supposed to _protect_ her!” he yelled as he unloaded the clip, pulling the trigger repeatedly–

Until the room reeked with fumes and burned powder–  
  
Until it clicked–

_And then some more_.

“Asshole! You’re a fucking useless asshole, you know that?!” Billy stumbled back, his breathing labored and hard. Tears were streaming down his face as he stared at _Neil_.  
Except, it wasn’t Neil anymore, whatever was left of his face wasn’t recognizable now.

“SHIT!! Fuck!!” Billy cried out, kicking the bedpost before leaving the room in a hurry.

He didn’t check for other infected, didn’t do so much as look around as he reached the dining room.

Stumbling, he jerked the door open, nearly tripping over _something_.  
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw what had tripped him, and his blood ran cold. A body, torn in half, small frame, _the hair_ –

_Could it be…?  
  
_ Billy gagged, tried to ignore the creeping numbness in his stomach as he staggered down the stairs, his head felt like it was filled with cotton wool, heavy. He stumbled again, his mouth felt as dry as cloth as he rushed away from the house and – he didn’t even think about it, he couldn’t – towards the forest line.

All he could think of like it had been imprinted on his brain, was Max.  
Max running from Neil, trying to get away, _trying to escape_ , while he would’ve just trailed behind, flesh hanging like tattered rags from his shoulder, his rotting leg, the bones sticking out from it as he dragged it behind him. And these _awfully popping eyes_ , Billy couldn’t get them out of his mind.

After what seemed like an eternity of staggering over the mossy, uneven forest ground, he reached a clearing.

Billy coughed as he got to his knees and retched. Heaving, he buried his fingers in the grass, the earth, and kept retching, sucking in air as he retched more– until, and thank God for that, the heaves went dry.

Billy felt sweat dripping down his forehead. He was on all fours, saliva, and vomit trickling from his mouth.  
He sat back on his heels, feeling weak and dizzy, but at least his mind seemed clearer. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then laid down and rolled onto his back. Shuddering, Billy cupped his hand over his mouth and nose.

“Max,” he sobbed out– dry, raw sobs. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!!”

Biting his tongue, Billy stifled another sob. _It wasn’t fair_! He had come for her, had tried to find her, had tried to be the big brother she deserved, and now– He closed his eyes, felt frustration and anger rising in his throat.  
A light wind had carried the sound of moaning to his ears. The gunshots, he realized, as his head lolled to the side. It had alerted them, and now they were coming for him.

_Good. Let them come_ , he thought, blinking.

It was a ‘small herd,’ he could see ten? Or maybe nine? It didn’t matter.

_I can’t do this anymore. I just can’t.  
  
_ He wasn’t proud of it, but he had entertained that thought once before. Ending it, shooting himself in the head and making sure he wouldn’t come back as one of them.  
But he had clung to life, had clung to finding Max, to the chance of her needing him to protect her.

Not anymore, though. His sister was gone.

Billy’s breath caught in his throat when he heard a thump next to him, but he could do nothing but stare. One of the infected had fallen over and was now crawling towards him. She, Billy realized with horror, looked like a burn victim as there was no skin left on her face, and her eyeballs swiveled in their sockets.

Billy felt his heartbeat hard against his chest, felt a tremor passing through his limbs, when she came up beside him, one crooked hand close to his shin, and–

A low-pitched whistling sound reached his ear, and the noises stopped.

The Walker that had reached for him lay motionless, arm still stretched towards him but no longer trying to grab him. But even now, her dead eyes were stuck on him, and Billy felt another wave of nausea hit him; he choked.  
Staring at _the arrow_ that stuck out from the dead woman’s temple also didn’t help, so–

_Wait_.

_Where?  
  
_ “Hey, you sure you can handle the rest?”

“We’re fine, dingus.”

“Okay, but be careful!”

The voice came closer, and Billy glanced up, trying to make out the figure looking down at him, but his eyes wouldn’t focus. All he could _kind of_ make out was wild, untamed hair.

“Man, you look like shit,” a guy said, crouched down and, almost casually, patted Billy’s cheek.

“Hey, you with me? Huh?” When Billy couldn’t muster a response, the man sighed and turned his head. “He’s way out of it, guys.”

“Don’t get too close to him.” This time, it was a woman speaking. “He might be infected.”

“Yeah, I don’t know, Robin. There are no bites or scratches.”

“Dude, _come on_ , look at all the blood! It’s somewhere, I bet you!” Billy hadn’t heard that voice before, but it was another guy, that much he could tell. “Put the poor fucker out of his misery before he turns if you wanna help him so much.”

There was a pregnant pause, a huff, and then Billy felt someone tugging on his arm, no–

Someone had grabbed both his arms and had hauled him upright.

“But Ste-”

“ **No** , he’s alive, and we don’t kill the living.”  
-was the last thing Billy heard before the world tilted and his eyes rolled back in their sockets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! :) Any comments and feedback are appreciated.
> 
> Come and yell at me on [tumblr](https://hoegrove.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/hoegrove)! <3
> 
> _Ooooh, who might it be? And also... poor Billy :(_


	3. Hearts Still Beating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo 💖  
> it's been a while and I'm so sorry about that, BUT I'm gonna finish that story, so no worries. :)  
> And **thank you all so much for the comments** ; kudos, I appreciate you and your kind words- you guys are the best! 
> 
> So... again, I'm sorry for taking so long, but at least it's a 6k chapter, so I hope you'll forgive me 👀  
> Just in case: if you feel like I'm missing a warning / a tag, please tell me, so I can fix it! :)  
> 
> 
> 💖 As always, thank you @ [taerangi](taerangi.tumblr.com/) for the beta 💖  
>   
> 

_  
You honor the dead by going on, even when you’re scared.  
_ _You live because they don’t get to._

****

**_Present_ **

There was a coolness on his forehead and cheeks, it was nice, comforting in a way. It felt as if someone was dabbing his face with a damp cloth.

Moaning at the sensation, Billy let himself sink further back into the pillow. There was still a cloying smell of mold in the air, but it wasn’t as strong anymore, almost as if someone had taken the time to ventilate the room while he’d been out cold. (And Billy preferred calling it that because _no_ , he didn’t faint; he’d never done that, and he wouldn’t start now.)  
It was weird, though, and for a second, he _kind of_ wanted to laugh at the thought of someone airing out the room, waving at the occasional Walker, wishing them a pleasant day or something– alright, scratch weird, it was absurd.

_Jesus, did I get hit on the head, or what-  
  
_ A throbbing headache thumped inside his skull, and Billy groaned as his eyes fluttered open. The lights in the room were only dim, but it still took some time until his eyes had adjusted to their surroundings; Billy thought it felt like a lifetime and a half.

He groaned again, louder this time.

Billy’s shoulders felt as if they were on _fucking fire_ , and these stupid – yeah, that was putting it mildly – ropes still held him tight. They held his arms up in an unnatural, discomforting way, and at this point, he couldn’t even feel his forearms anymore, let alone his fingers.  
Billy couldn’t tell whether it was more painful or infuriating, but knowing him, it was probably- no, _definitely_ the last one.

“Easy… easy, soldier,” Billy heard someone taking a deep breath next to him, “You… _are_ still you, right? C’mon…” The voice sounded unsure, maybe even a little nervous, yet hopeful at the end.

Billy drew his eyebrows together, and, out of the corner of his eyes, saw a figure looming next to the bed. It was impossible to make out the guy’s face as he stood silhouetted against the window – _fucker_ –, but Billy knew it had to be him: The young man who had saved him at the clearing (for whatever reason he didn’t know), dragged him here ( _wherever the fuck_ that was), and tied him up (and, to add insult to injury, not even in a fun way).

_Shit… how long was I out…_

Billy tried to loosen his stiff muscles a bit, relaxing his shoulders. His eyes were darting around, searching for something, anything that could tell him where he was? Or even if it was day or night, because honestly, Billy had no idea. He felt disoriented, as though he wasn’t in control.

And he wasn’t, was he?

That realization hit him hard. He hissed around the gag in sheer frustration, arched his back, and started pulling on the ropes again. Screw his sore muscles or the weakened state of his body- he’d have plenty of time to relax once he was dead, or better yet, _undead_. 

“Dude! Keeping you alive is harder than herding cats!” Billy felt the mattress dipping next to him as the man sat down on its edge, “Can you– _Oh my God_ , stop hurting yourself for a second, dipshit.” The man worried his lip between his teeth, frowning down at Billy when he scooted closer.  
“Look, I didn’t scrub puke and blood off your _goddamn ugly mug_ ,” a hint of a smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth when Billy shot him a scandalized glare, and _finally_ stopped fighting the restraints, “-just so you can opt out now.”

He chuckled, and Billy _hated_ how pleasant it sounded. The guy could probably tell, because he shook his head, but didn’t comment on the matter. He just seemed relieved that Billy was lying still now.

“Hey there, that’s better, don’t you think?” he said. It was soft, careful as if he was talking to a wild animal he didn’t want to spook. (Again?)

Billy grunted in response, then tilted his chin up to study the guy. As subtle as possible, of course.

He couldn’t have been much older than him, a year or two tops, but there was something about him, something _vaguely_ familiar. It didn’t make any sense, though, because Billy had never been to Hawkins before. And, truth be told, he could’ve easily done without ever visiting that shithole.

So, maybe, he’d met him somewhere else?

_That’s not it. Fuck, that’s not it! Think, you idiot._

Billy scrunched up his nose in frustration, if only for a moment as the guy’s words about _his goddamn ugly mug_ were still hanging over him. The nerve of that guy!

It was bugging him. He could’ve sworn he’d seen him before, but he couldn’t figure out where! Those big brown eyes, almost deer-like, the little moles on his face, and the hair?! That hair wasn’t something you’d easily forget, because those thick, wavy locks seemed to defy gravity.  
Well, if nothing else, Billy thought, the guy was at least a sight for sore eyes. Especially after having to deal with infected all day every day.

It was sad, really, that his good looks seemed to be the only good thing the guy had going for himself because he obviously was dumb as a bag of rocks– or maybe he was just blind? Then again, he was still in Hawkins, and considering Billy’s current run of luck, the guy was probably just some stupid hick who only had sex with farm animals, and didn’t have any taste.

“Woah, are you trying to set me on fire with that glare, soldier? Hm?” The guy raised a bemused eyebrow at Billy and crossed one leg over the other. “I get it, you’re pissed. I’d be, too, to be honest, but I had to, you know?” He scratched the back of his head, shrugging when Billy huffed because ‘ _NO, he didn’t know_.’

“Bringing you here was a risk, man. I mean, look… I was _kinda_ sure you wouldn’t turn because I couldn’t find any bites or scratches on you, but… yeah,” he trailed off, massaging his right temple for a bit, “It’s not like there’s a manual that tells you how to handle this shit.” He looked up again, his eyes searching for Billy’s.  
“I couldn’t just put a bullet in your head… and leaving you there wasn’t an option,” he stopped, the ghost of a smile on his lips, “well, for me, it wasn’t, so I brought you here.”

“ –y –o –ill…?” Billy _tried_ to say around the gag. It came out muffled, _big surprise_ , but the other seemed to understand.

Or maybe he didn’t, because he leaned closer, and reached around the back of Billy’s head to fumble with the knot. It came loose a moment later, but he still didn’t remove the gag; instead, he held it firmly in place with his hand, not letting it go yet.  
And Billy actually wanted to cry out in frustration. The cloth had chafed the corners of his mouth, which wasn’t exactly comfortable, and he just knew that he’d been drooling on himself, which, all things considered, _fucking sucked_.

“Hey, look at me. It’s coming off, okay? I just need you to understand something first.”

Billy blinked. He hadn’t even realized how close the other had come.

“Good, now listen… this area is _relatively_ safe. We’ve been taking care of the infected, and… took some other measures, but you can never quite get rid of all of them. I’m sure you know that,” Steve explained, “And that’s why you can’t scream or yell at me. It’s bad enough that you fired that shot, I don’t need you to attract even more of those fuckers.”

Billy grumbled. He knew full well that he’d fucked up, he didn’t need a reminder, _thank you very much_.

“Dude, _nod_ , give me something, anything, or this stays on.”

Billy was quick to nod then, or at least try to. The hand at the back of his head made nodding difficult, but it seemed to be enough, because the man let go of the cloth, and Billy couldn’t help but pull in a deep, relieved breath.  
He worked his sore jaw gratefully for a moment, and wet his dry lips with his tongue. The chafed corners of his mouth burned with the sudden touch of air, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Everything was better than having some dirty rag stuck in your mouth.

“Th-ank-s…,” he said, his voice rough and cracking, but he needed to know, “Who ar-e you…?”

“Ah, right. My bad, I’m Steve,” Steve said, standing up, “I’ll get you some water, then we can talk.” He lingered next to Billy for a moment, watched him as he rubbed his tongue over his chapped lips, then sighed and walked away. Seemingly to the other side of the cabin, where Billy could make out a small ‘kitchen.’ Alright, it wasn’t much of a kitchen, but it had the basic stuff, he guessed.

_Steve. Steve… Steve…,_ he mused, repeating the name like a mantra.

It felt as if there were tiny gears in his head. Turning slowly, as if they were full of sand, turning and turning, but never quite reaching a conclusion. Let alone a satisfactory one.

_Wait. Steve. Oh shit, fuck me…_

Billy closed his eyes, trying to ignore the heartbeat throbbing in his ears.

No, he thought, this couldn’t be happening.  
It couldn’t be the same Steve Tommy had been talking about – Billy knew, of course, that he was only fooling himself right now –, and it clearly, _definitely_ couldn’t be the guy who maybe could’ve helped him find Max. If only Billy would’ve arrived sooner, if he’d been faster and smarter about the whole thing.

_Sure_ , the universe had always seemed to take a sick delight in fucking him over, but this was _too much_. Right? This couldn’t be happening right now– it just couldn’t?

Billy bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, and tears welled up in his eyes as he threw his head back… laughing loudly. It wasn’t happy laughter, not even close, it was jagged, desperate, _bitter_. The kind of hollow sound that would let your blood run cold.

Billy didn’t care. He felt the mattress shifting again as Steve reappeared in his vision and leaned over him. Worry furrowed his brow as he scanned Billy’s face and body, looking for injuries he might’ve missed earlier. His mouth was moving, but Billy couldn’t tell whether he was trying to talk to him or if he was talking to himself.  
Honestly? It didn’t matter. Nothing _King Steve_ could’ve said or done would’ve helped him right now or would’ve brought Max back to life.

It was funny, in a sick, gut-twisting kind of way. Billy had talked to people who’d lost loved ones to the infected, and even the memory of Tommy holding on to his hand for dear life, shaking, sobbing, was still fresh in his mind.  
He’d lost friends, everybody had; so, yeah, he’d seen it happen, more often than he thought he could bear, but this was different. Because it’s always _the others_ , right? This thing, the infection, it couldn’t possibly happen to you, or people you love?!

Until it did, and–

Billy’s thoughts were suddenly interrupted when he heard the snap of the rope, and his right arm dropped to the mattress with the left following suit seconds later. He winced, arching his back when pins and needles seemed to be shooting up his arms, across his chest, and even down his legs.  
Steve had made short work of all the restraints, there were two more snaps, and even though Billy would’ve preferred the whole thing to be less painful, it had brought him back to reality. So, there was that.

“Breathe. I need you to keep breathing,” Steve said as he guided Billy in a sitting position, rubbing his upper arms and knees alternately, gently. “It’s okay. You’re alright. You’re safe,” he smiled a careful half-smile when Billy started rolling his shoulders, loosening them a little.  
He was obviously still in some pain or at least felt a tingling sensation, but he wasn’t _laughing_ anymore, and even his breathing was getting back to normal. Slow and steady.

“There… that’s better.” Steve leaned back, allowing himself to relax again. “Shit, soldier, what was that? You scared the shit outta me.”

“It… doesn’t matter anymore,” Billy’s voice was both rough from disuse and the sudden bout of laughter. His whole body was aching, but there was some feeling coming back to his limbs, which was better than nothing, he guessed. “My name’s Billy, you can stop calling me soldier now.” He glanced over to Steve, who had just unscrewed the lid of a water bottle, and was now offering it to him.

“Thanks,” he muttered as he grabbed the bottle with stiff fingers and carefully took a few sips.

“You’re welcome… Billy,” Steve nodded, his eyes never leaving Billy’s face, “Try not to drink too fast, okay? Don’t want you puking again,” he added, frowning, then got back to his feet and walked over to a couch. It was pretty old, seemed well-used, and there was a backpack sitting on it. Steve grabbed it and turned around to face Billy again.

“I brought you something to eat. A sandwich.”

Billy’s hand was still shaking a little when he put the bottle back on the nightstand, but the floor felt cold beneath his socked feet, grounding.  
He didn’t dare to try to get up, not yet.

“You’re not gonna ask again?”

“I want to,” Steve replied, surprising Billy with his honesty, “but I don’t think you wanna tell me.” He padded back over to Billy and plopped down on a chair, “You can tell me if you want to, but you don’t have to, obviously.”  
Steve shrugged, before producing a brown paper bag from his backpack, and placing it next to Billy on the mattress. “There. You should eat, you’ve been out for some time, your body needs it.”

He smiled reassuringly, then pulled one leg up, so he could rest his chin on his knee while waiting for Billy to–

Well, yeah. To do _something_ , anything at all, really, because he hadn’t done as much as move a muscle since he’d gotten to the edge of the bed. Steve had half-expected Billy to try to attack him, and even though he was glad to be proven wrong, watching Billy’s body language change was alarming. He’d been fighting the restraints like a mad man, hadn’t cared about the ropes cutting into his flesh, and he’d shot Steve more dirty glares than Steve had bothered to count.  
All that fight was gone now, Billy was deflating like a balloon right in front of his eyes– and Steve didn’t even know why. Not really.

_I should’ve been here sooner. I could’ve gotten her out of here…_

Billy sighed; he could feel Steve’s gaze following his every move but tried to ignore it as he eyed the paper bag. He wasn’t hungry, not a bit, and who knew if he could even stomach solid food right now, but still, Steve had a point: His stomach felt vacant, he was shivering, and his legs were shaking. His body definitely needed some fuel, rather sooner than later.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Billy said, wiping his face and eyes with his left hand, before carefully unwrapping the sandwich. For a second, he had to fight back the urge to devour half of it in one bite; it smelled divine, and Billy couldn’t even remember the last time he’d eaten bread, let alone something other than canned food like beans or (cold) soup.

He smacked his lips and glanced over to Steve again.

“You didn’t answer my question before… Why didn’t you kill me? Your friends wanted you to,” he asked, fixing Steve with a measuring look. “And while we’re at it, why are you helping me? You literally dragged my ass here, took care of me, and now you’re feeding me. That’s way beyond the usual ‘I don’t like killing people’-routine, don’t you think?”

“Oh, jeez…” Steve huffed a laugh, rubbing his temples in amusement. Shouldn’t he have been the one asking questions? He could practically _hear_ Robin rolling her eyes at him, but he decided to indulge Billy anyway. Steve didn’t know why, he just felt that Billy needed something right now, and if it was him talking, then he could have that.

“Alright. You eat, I talk. Sound good?”

Billy nodded as he chewed on his sandwich, trying not to moan because _damn_ , it _really_ was that good.

“Good. Okay. So… look, I’m sorry about what my friends said, but they were only looking out for me,” Steve smiled sheepishly, avoiding Billy’s eyes for a moment. To his credit, he did appear to feel guilty about the situation back then.

“You’re also right, I didn’t kill you because I don’t kill the living if I can help it. It’s like I said, no bites, no scratches, just a whole lot of blood and puke. I had to take my chances, and I was right. You _are_ alive.” There was some sort of stubborn satisfaction in his voice, and Billy couldn’t help but raise a brow at him, this _King Steve_ was something else after all, who would’ve thought?

“I didn’t drag your ass here by myself, my friends helped,” Steve continued, “they went back to our camp before you woke up, but you’ll meet them later. Them and the rest of the group, they’re good people, don’t worry.”

_Oh goodie… can’t wait._

Billy wrinkled his nose at the thought and went back to eating his sandwich without commenting on it. Instead, he focused on savoring every little bite of his meal. The ham, the cheese, veggies – actual vegetables, not canned shit –, all of it was _fucking_ delicious. It was like nibbling on a piece of heaven!

“You had a temperature for a while, but it never got really high, so… it might’ve been from exhaustion, or maybe you got some of their blood in your mouth, and your body was fighting it. I don’t know, man, I’m not a doctor.” Steve gave a half-hearted shrug, then looked up, meeting Billy’s eyes again. “I’m helping you because it’s the right thing to do, no other reason, it’s simple like that.”

Putting it like that, it did seem simple, so Billy nodded again, wondering if _helping others because it’s the right thing to do_ was the town’s motto or something. Maybe, he thought, this was because Hawkins was a small town, where people actually knew each other by name and genuinely cared about others? Still, Steve had risked a lot, for a stranger no less.

“Okay. I get it, I guess,” Billy said after a while, chewing on another bite. “It happened before. Not to me, but I’ve seen it, people getting that shit in their mouths, I mean. Some of them got infected, others didn’t. Must’ve gotten lucky, or something.”

Billy still couldn’t tell if he _truly_ had gotten lucky this time. Getting bitten, infected, meant that the fight was over, or would soon be over. For good!  
And Billy had wanted that; he’d been sure he wanted it to be over. Ever since finding Max’s corpse, and running out of Neil’s house, he’d been sure– right?

“Or something?” Steve parroted with a raised brow, interrupting Billy’s train of thought again.

“ _Or something_ ,” Billy repeated. He took another quick sip from the bottle, feeling grateful that his body was starting to feel warm again.

“Alright. Whatever.” Steve shrugged, then tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “Listen, I’m gonna ask you some questions now, and I’ll need you to be honest with me.” He sat up straight, looking Billy directly in the eye. The fierce look in Steve’s eyes caught Billy off-guard, so he just hummed and waited for Steve to continue.

“You’re a soldier, but you’re on your own. Why? Where’s your team? And why are you even in Hawkins? People don’t just come here randomly…”

_Alright, guess that’s only fair._

Billy nibbled on a piece of cheese before he cleared his throat, “Military’s long gone, but yeah, I am.”  
He could probably do that– talking about the military, about the past; it was better than bringing Max up again, or how he’d come to Hawkins in the first place.

“Oh no- _shit_!” Billy jumped to his feet, trying to shake the dizziness from his head, “Fuck! I forgot!”

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Steve pushing himself up as well, tensing as if he was expecting Billy to jump him any second.

“Billy, what-”

“ _Tommy_! I was supposed to meet Tommy at your place!” Billy hissed as he stumbled to slip on his combat boots.  
He’d appreciated Steve taking the time to get him out of them because given how tight they were wearing them in bed wasn’t even close to being comfortable, but right now, it proved to be annoying at best.

“Uhm… come again?” Steve was still tense, alarmed. He didn’t know what to make of the situation. “How do you even know Tommy? And- why were you at my house?!”

“Met him yesterday, or… the day before yesterday, hell, I don’t know anymore,” Billy groaned, waving his hand toward the door. “We gotta go. Now.”

He’d lost a lot of time giving his best expression of _Sleeping Beauty_ , and he figured Tommy would move on soon, because why would he stick around now? Billy had _kind of_ promised to come back (with Max) and meet up with him, but there was no way for Tommy to be sure that Billy was actually trying to keep that ‘promise,’ let alone that he was still alive.

“Yeah, right. Sure,” Steve huffed a small, unamused laugh, “You were at my house, you could’ve come across Tommy’s name there, so why would I go anywhere with you? I might’ve saved your ass, but that doesn’t mean I trust you-”

Billy drew a deep breath through clenched teeth.  
 _Yes_ , he got where Steve was coming from, and he knew trusting people was risky (it always had been to some degree), but they didn’t have the time to discuss it right now, they needed to get going. Maybe, this time, Billy had to take the first step, throw Steve a bone? _Something_?

“Okay, listen, I came here looking for my sister, that’s the only reason why I’m in this shithole town, alright?” he said without pause, “I needed a place to crash, that’s when I found your castle, _King Steve_ ,” Billy sneered when he saw Steve’s eyes widening with realization.  
“I met Tommy there, talked to him for a while. We split up the next day because he- he had some unfinished business to take care of, and… like I said, I was looking for my sister,” Billy swallowed around the lump in his throat. “We agreed to meet again at your place. And, shit, I don’t know, he said he wanted to find you, so… you might as well tag along. Or not, I don’t give a fuck- just point me in the right direction, and I’m gone, _amigo_.”

Part of Billy was grateful that Steve hadn’t moved a muscle since he’d started speaking. His legs were still shaky, and he felt dizzy. Jumping to his feet like that probably hadn’t been the smartest idea, but he was managing, somehow; he didn’t know how. He just knew he needed a moment to collect himself and gather some strength before he could make good on his words and leave.

“Son of a bitch…” Steve pressed his left hand against his forehead, closing his eyes as he tried to let that bit of information sink in.  
It was hard to believe that Tommy was back in Hawkins, voluntarily at that. Steve couldn’t even remember the last time they’d talked – _really_ talked; purposefully misinterpreting each other’s words and fighting didn’t count –, but it seemed forever ago.

“That nickname, I haven’t heard it in a while… but I guess there’re some things not even the apocalypse can kill…” Steve shook his head, then looked over to Billy. “He’s alone? Are you sure there’s… no one with him?”

Billy opened his mouth, ready to just drop the bomb and be done with it, but then again– why? It wasn’t his place to tell. He’d never met the girl, _Carol_ , his memory helpfully supplied, but he still felt that she deserved more than a stranger delivering the message.  
His old, angry self would’ve jumped at the opportunity of hurting Steve, would’ve enjoyed the view, but that wasn’t him anymore.

“I’m sure,” Billy said, his tone void of any emotion as he avoided Steve’s eyes, “And… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be the one to tell you.”

“Oh… okay.” Steve lowered his gaze, sadness shadowing his eyes, and Billy could see him swallowing hard when he grabbed his backpack. His steps were slower than before; even his hand seemed unsteady as he reached for the belt that had been sitting on the couch, too.  
Billy quickly averted his eyes when he saw Steve’s eyes glistening with unshed tears. He was trying hard to fight them back, but his hands trembled even while he adjusted the belt and checked his gear. Billy didn’t know what to say, wasn’t sure if Steve wanted to talk, so he kept quiet and waited.

“You had your gun on you when we found you,” Steve finally said in a more controlled voice. “No more rounds, though.”

“Yeah, I’m out. Lost my knife, too.”

“Wow… you’re quite the survivalist, huh?” Steve raised both brows at Billy, who just shrugged. He wasn’t ready to admit to Steve (or to himself for that matter), that yes, _indeed_ , he’d screwed up. _Big time_.  
“Don’t think about it, it’s the town... I don’t know what it is about Hawkins, but strange things happen here all the time, you’d be surprised,” Steve added, making his way over to Billy as he drew a machete out of the sheath that was tied to his belt.

He sighed when Billy instinctively took a step back– not that he could blame him.

“You know how to use this, right?” Steve asked, waiting for Billy to grab the handle of the weapon.

Billy didn’t move, his eyes were darting between Steve and the machete.

“Okay, look, _the pointy end_ goes-”

“Shit, I know where the pointy end goes, _shut up_. Didn’t expect you to give me a weapon, is all,” Billy huffed as he took the machete. It felt heavy in his hand, heavier than he’d imagined, but he’d still be able to swing it with one hand, most of the weight was in the top anyway.  
He trained his eyes along the edge of the blade. It didn’t seem sharp, but when Billy reached for the edge to run his thumb over it, he felt Steve’s hand on his wrist, stopping him. “What-”

“Looks can be deceiving. It’s sharp,” Steve let go of his hand and walked over to the door. “Once we’re out there, I’ll need you to have my back… just as I’ll have yours. It’s a two-way street, Billy.”

“Got it,” Billy said, putting the machete through his belt. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do for now. “Do you have another gun on you or what-”

He stopped when he saw Steve gripping the handle of a baseball bat. It had been leaning against the wall next to the door, and Billy was surprised he hadn’t noticed it before. Some nails, he guessed maybe around six inches, were hammered through its end, making it an undeniably effective modern version of the medieval mace.

Steve smirked, enjoying Billy’s gaze on him and the bat as he let it rest on his shoulder.

“No need to worry about me, soldier,” he winked – the bastard had actually _winked_ at him! –, then he opened the door. Billy was surprised he hadn’t at least peeked outside first, but then again, Steve knew the area better than he did, and Billy had to count on Steve knowing what he was doing.  
(He didn’t like the sound of that too much.)

“It’s late, but we’ll be okay. It won’t take long to get over to my place and back,” Steve said, gesturing for Billy to follow him. “You know how to ride a horse?”

Billy smirked to himself – he had _some_ experience with riding, alright – and stepped outside, breathing in some fresh air, letting his gaze wander. He still didn’t really know where he was, but the forest wasn’t quite so dense, and it wouldn’t be hard to spot Walkers in time and avoid them.

“It’s been a while, but yeah,” Billy said. “Where’d you find them?”

The horses, one black, the other a bay, were tied to the porch railing next to the stairs. They didn’t seem to care much about the company. Billy watched them swishing away flies with their tails, then looked over to Steve, who had approached the black horse. It had lifted his head and snarled out a whinny until Steve had patted its neck soothingly.

“There’re some farms just outside of Hawkins, we got lucky,” Steve explained, then reached down and gave the other one an affectionate pat on the chest as well. “It’s easier with them… they’re quiet, they don’t need gas, and yeah, they know how to defend themselves. Those two bad boys here? They probably took down more infected than I did.”   
The horse whinnied again as if to agree, and was promptly rewarded by Steve reaching up to its ears, scratching behind them.

“That’s Cash, the other’s called Cinnamon,” he added and gestured with his thumb at the bay. “Come on, get to know him. Don’t worry, he’s gentle… and very forgiving,” Steve chuckled as he untied Cash’s reins. “We need to go if we wanna make it back before sunset.”

“Ready when you are,” Billy said, mimicking Steve’s patting from earlier, then climbed into the saddle. He wasn’t a very skillful rider, let alone the most elegant, but he had managed to get up on the horse’s back and grab the reins. It could’ve gone worse, Billy guessed.

“Alright…” Steve said and swung himself up in the saddle, making it look easy, effortless with his damn long legs. “Let him do the work, he’ll follow Cash. You just focus on staying in the saddle, _cowboy_.”

“ _Fuck. You_ ,” Billy said with emphasis.

“Maybe later, _amigo_ ,” Steve cackled, and then clicked his tongue, urging Cash into a trot.  
  


****  
  
**

Billy felt himself relax when they left the forest behind and moved toward the town again. He wasn’t thrilled about going back there, but he needed to make sure Tommy was alright. He owed him that much for saving his life, and Tommy had been looking for Steve anyway, so why not bring _the king_ himself over?

“Did you find your sister?” Steve asked out of the blue, allowing the horses to walk side by side. The town was quiet, there was nothing to be heard except for the steady clip-clop sound of the horses’ hooves on asphalt.

Billy gripped the reins a little harder than necessary. “Still not in a sharing mood.”

“Okay, sorry.” Steve let his gaze wander for a moment. The streets were empty, no corpse to be seen, or, at least, none that would come after them. Steve had gotten somewhat numb to the _actual corpses_ lying on the street.

“It’s called a _squad_ ,” Billy muttered, interrupting the silence that had fallen between them. It hadn’t been comfortable, not talking, only listening to the steady clip-clop of Cash’s and Cinnamon’s hooves.

“Sorry?” Steve shifted in the saddle, looking over to Billy.

“You asked about my team, back at the cabin,” Billy clarified, “but it’s called a squad.” He didn’t know why he’d brought it up again, but he figured they still had some way ahead, and, well, he did owe his life to Steve. (Maybe Steve and Tommy could even bond over the fact that they both had saved Billy’s ass? _Jesus_ , Billy thought, they’d probably never let him live that down.)

“We… were like family, you know? But, shit… I lost so many of them within the first two weeks…” Billy swallowed as the memories welled up inside him. “We didn’t know back then. No one told us that the smallest bite or scratch’s a death sentence. They just threw us at them, let us die like… like we didn’t matter.” He snorted, huffed a bitter laugh. “Fuck, we probably didn’t.”

Billy’s pulse quickened, and some heat rose to his cheeks, but he still felt cold thinking about it. “We regrouped and returned to base, but it was overrun when we arrived. So… some took off, tried to find their families… others stayed to protect civilians.”

“You did.” It wasn’t a question.

“For a while,” Billy confirmed, wondering how different things would have turned out if he’d never stayed there in the first place.  
“We set up Quarantine Zones in DC, but people are dumb, so fucking dumb. Those Zones… they weren’t perfect or super comfortable, but they were safe,” he trailed off, shrugging, “I mean, they were at the beginning, but people still went out to… I don’t even know, to fuck? To plunder stores? Doesn’t matter. But they came back and, yeah… you know.” It wasn’t hard to put two and two together, Steve would get what he was saying. He’d know what had happened in the QZs without Billy having to spell it out for him.

“Fuckers got bit and didn’t tell anybody…” Steve gritted his teeth, curling his fingers around the reins.

Billy nodded in response. “I left after… maybe three months, I don’t know. Most of the Zones had fallen to the infected by that time, so there was no point in staying. And I,” he stopped himself from saying anything about Max, “I knew I had to keep away from the big cities.”

“Holy shit, man…,” Steve said, gulping. “We’ve heard about those Zones being set up, we even thought about trying to get there… but thank fuck we didn’t…”

For a while, weeks, maybe even months after the initial outbreak, radio and television broadcasting had still worked, and they’d been able to learn about other cities and states.  
These days– things were different. The entire communications infrastructure had collapsed under the onslaught of the infected, and people had had to learn how to deal with a complete media blackout. It was impossible to know now what had happened and what was still happening somewhere else in the country, let alone abroad.

“You’ve been through a lot… through hell,” Steve said, then stopped to gesture Billy the way when they reached a crossway. “And, I’m sorry to say, but I don’t think you’ve got an awful lot waiting for you somewhere else, so-”

“Jesus, fuck me… that’s one hell of a motivational speech you got going there. You practice, pretty boy?”

“I wasn’t finished…” Steve rolled his eyes at Billy. “What I’m saying is that you should consider staying with us at our camp. We are a big group, and we could really use some extra help. Besides… safety in numbers, and all that shit, right?”  
He knew it wasn’t his place to make any promises, not without talking to his group first, but it still felt right. Billy wasn’t a bad person, Steve’s gut had told him as much, and he had decided to trust it.

“Uhm-”

“Think about it, please. Don’t answer yet, just… think about it.” Steve offered Billy a vague smile. “I’m not gonna lie, it won’t be easy, and my group won’t trust you, but… please, think about it. Can you do that for me?”

_He’s not wrong, I’ve got nowhere else to go… might as well take a look…_

Billy licked his dry lips as he scratched the back of his head. He felt Steve’s gaze on him, felt it following him. Steve would probably offer the same thing to Tommy, and Tommy wasn’t a bad guy. He was easy to talk to, seemed to know his way around the infected, too.

Oh well, Billy smiled to himself, he was tired. And there wasn’t a single reason for him to leave, at least not right now.

“Yeah, okay… I’ll do that,” he replied, and looked over to Steve, who flashed him a genuine smile this time, and yeah–

_Worth i_ _t._

Billy thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! (finally! Steve's here!) :D  
> Comments and feedback are appreciated. 💖
> 
> Come and yell at me on [tumblr](https://hoegrove.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/hoegrove)! <3


	4. New Best Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeey :)  
> Writer's block is a bitch, ugh- but I did it, the chapter's finished and we're finally getting somewhere! (It's also 2 am and I don't know what else to say, heh)  
> Thank you for your kind words! All comments & kudos are appreciated, I love you guys 💖 (I might've cried when the fic hit 1000 hits, ssshhh)
> 
> If you feel like I'm missing a warning / a tag, please tell me, so I can fix it! :)  
> 💖 As always, thank you @[taerangi](https://taerangi.tumblr.com/) for the beta 💖  
>   
> 

_It's their world, we're just living in it.  
  
_

As they made their way to the Harrington residence, they talked about everything and nothing at the same time. The past, the present, never quite broaching the subject of the future.  
Billy hadn’t made up his mind yet, he didn’t know whether he even wanted to _try_ to stay with Steve’s group or not. Hawkins meant nothing to him, but then again, no place really did anymore.  
  
They kept talking, chatting casually like old friends would.  
Steve had never seen a single _Star Wars_ movie in its entirety, he did remember _something_ about teddy bears, though, and Billy chose not to comment. In junior high, he’d been part of the swim team, but when his grades had _somewhat_ suffered, his parents made him quit.  
  
And Billy could tell that some part of Steve, some childish part of him, was still bitter about it. The way the corners of his mouth had twitched and how he’d gone tense while talking, it had been obvious, and Billy wondered if Steve was always this easy to read.  
(Billy hoped he wasn’t.)

“They still ‘round?”

“Huh? My parents?”

Billy hummed, earning a snort in response.  
“Honestly?! I have no idea. Haven’t seen them since everything started, and even before they were barely around, but who knows? They might still be alive, even now.” Steve smacked his lips, and again, it was easy to tell that he didn’t believe a single word he’d just said.  
“They were on a business trip when things got bad around here, somewhere in Europe, I think. I tried to reach them, I… still sometimes do, but yeah, you know…,” he trailed off, shrugged, and then raised a brow at Billy.  
  
“What about your folks, soldier? Or are you still not in a… _sharing mood_?”

“Hardy-har,” Billy chuckled, trying (and failing) to resist the urge to roll his eyes at Steve. “I don’t know about my mom, not for sure. I think she’s been dead for years. To me, anyway,” he bit his lower lip and chewed on it, thinking. “My dad… well, I took care of him. He’s dead– won’t come back this time.”  
Billy swallowed around the lump in his throat. Neil’s dead eyes still haunted him. Unblinking, missing life’s sheen, they were still staring dully at him every time he dared close his eyes.

Steve blinked, then nodded.  
  
Now the questions will come, Billy thought, but Steve _thankfully_ kept quiet till they reached a crossroads and continued east.

The sun began to slowly set, and with the shadows growing longer and the gloom of the nearby wood growing even deeper, Billy let his eyes wander. He didn’t think they’d find Tommy just walking around, but there was a chance. And there was always the possibility of something going wrong at the worst time possible.

“Hey? What’re you doing?” Billy’s fingers instinctively reached for the machete when Steve slid out of the saddle, grabbing the baseball bat’s handle. He threw Billy a quick glance and smirked as he swung the bat, loosening his shoulders while walking toward the other side of the road where two infected were _peacefully munching_ – Billy frowned at both his thoughts and their decidedly noisy eating – on a corpse, minding their own business, or whatever.

“Steve, we’re burning daylight as it is– let them be.”

Steve snorted in response, and Billy knew that _he would not just let them be_. He even picked up his pace.

“Don’t die on me, asshole,” Billy grumbled as he grabbed Cash’s reins. The black horse nickered softly at him, and Cinnamon turned his head, looking at Billy with one eye as if to determine whether he would follow Steve anytime soon, or not.  
The funny thing was that Billy, too, was trying to figure that out. A big part of him was curious about what Steve could do with that bat, and it was winning.

“He’ll be fine,” he told the horse as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, groaning at the sticky, grimy feel of his skin. It was fucking disgusting, and Billy’s skin prickled when he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d gotten to take a shower (let alone a hot one).  
A shower and a haircut would do me a world of good, Billy mused, scratching the back of his head. His hair was still shorter than when he’d sported a mullet, but it was getting longer. Longer and easier to grab– he’d have to take care of it sooner or later.

“Easy… easy,” Billy hummed and reached down to pat Cinnamon’s neck. The horse’s ears had been flicking back and forth constantly, and Billy could only guess that the moaning of the undead – up close and personal – was making it nervous.  
“It’s okay… I know, they suck,” he whispered, then chuckled when Cinnamon shook his head and sneezed as if to agree with him.

He let his fingers slide through the horse’s mane, trying to soothe it while also watching Steve out of the corner of his eyes. Steve had stopped moving toward the infected, his sights set on something else. Another Walker, Billy realized, when he saw the head of an undead emerging from under a car, his hands already reaching and grabbing for Steve’s boots and legs.

“Jesus…” Billy said, wrinkling his nose in disgust.  
The lower half of the infected was still stuck under the tire when it dragged itself toward Steve, ripping its body in half and leaving everything below the waist behind. It fell forward, groaned, and stretched his arm.  
Billy rose in his stirrups, getting ready to dismount. “Wait, let me-”

“Oh, what now? You think I can’t handle three?!” Steve turned his head, shooting Billy a mock-offended glare.

“No- that’s not-” The words died on Billy’s lips as Steve finally sprang into action: He lifted his right leg, then brought his heel slamming down on the Walker’s head. There was a sickening _THUNK_ when it cracked open like an overripe watermelon, spilling its contents on the street. Its fingers twitched, then the undead went limp.

 _Holy shit._ _  
_

Billy grimaced at the sight of the smashed skull but ultimately couldn’t keep his eyes off Steve.  
He’d noticed before: there was _something_ about him. Something about the way he talked, the way he carried himself, and definitely how he handled that baseball bat. Loose and light on his feet, he closed in on the Walkers, twirling the bat around in one hand, before giving one quick swing–

It was intense. And _kind of_ hot, Billy decided (to his surprise and horror), when Steve swung the bat, whacking the head off one infected while causing the other to fall from the impact. Steve followed the movement as he grabbed a knife from his belt and struck the blade into the Walker’s head.

“So. You were saying…?” Steve smirked at Billy and then yanked the knife free. He cleaned it on the patch of grass next to the pavement, before sheathing the blade again, and idly padded back to the horses to swing himself into the saddle.  
  
“Show-off,” Billy laughed despite himself, shaking his head at Steve. “Jesus, pretty boy, remind me to never piss you off.”

“Never piss me off,” Steve shot back, and even though he was still smirking, Billy thought he saw the flash of a warning in his eyes. “C’mon, we’re almost there,” he added, then quietly clucked to Cash and pressed his boot heels against the horse’s ribs, urging it into a faster gait.

“Lead the way,” Billy murmured wryly, his eyes never leaving Steve’s back.  
The meaning of _that little show_ Steve had just put on for him wasn’t lost on Billy – _I could take you, don’t fuck with me_ – but he didn’t mind. If anything, it made Steve even more interesting.

They reached the Harrington residence, five, maybe ten minutes later. It was still light, but it was beginning to fade now, and Steve gestured for Billy to hurry when they dismounted the horses.  
Of course, Steve (the long-legged asshole) had made it look easy (again), while Billy struggled for a second when his foot somehow got tangled in the stirrup leather. He’d managed to get both feet on the ground in the end, and without falling in the dirt like a sack of stones, mind you, but he was pissed off.  
Billy didn’t know why he was pissed off, but it probably had a great deal to do with Steve. And his stupid long legs.

“You could’ve asked for help,” Steve drawled as he wrapped Cash’s reins loosely around his wrist.

“Fuck off,” Billy groaned, not sure if he was talking to Steve or the horse that kept nuzzling its forehead into his chest, pushing him back a step. “Let’s just get Tommy and- _What the hell_ -” Billy gritted his teeth, bristling.  
He’d felt Cinnamon pressing his muzzle against his arm before, but hadn’t exactly expected him to sneeze on him, spraying both his forearm and hand with warm, sticky saliva and maybe even snot. “Dude… I hate you so much right now.”  
  
“Aww, don’t be like that, he likes you,” Steve offered, barely holding back laughter, his shoulders shaking visibly.

“Lucky me,” Billy deadpanned, looking over to Steve, who still looked like the cat who’d gotten the canary that had fallen into the cream pot.  
It was… _nice_. Seeing Steve in action, crushing Walker’s skulls left and right, taking care of business, had been interesting, hot even, but this? Yeah, this wasn’t too bad, either.

“Laugh it up, Chuckles,” Billy groaned, shooting Steve a lopsided smirk while wiping his hand clean on his pants. “I’m _so_ thrilled my misery amuses you, but we gotta find that friend of yours.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry.” Steve grinned, then took a deep breath to sober up a bit.  
His gaze wandered along the façade of the house and back to the front door. It was still barred, still secure, and Steve felt like patting himself on the back for a job well done. He knew, of course, that the undead and/or plunderers (anybody who set their mind to it, really) could simply break through the glass doors at the back of the house, but there wasn’t much he could’ve done about that back then. There’d been other stuff to do, people to protect.  
So, truth be told, Steve couldn’t have cared less about the house. It wasn’t _home_ anymore. It never really had been.

“Hey, where’d you go just now?” Billy asked as they made their way around to the back of the house. It’d been eerily quiet since they’d reached Steve’s place, and Billy hoped it to be a good sign. If Tommy was injured or even being torn apart right now, they would’ve heard.  
Could also mean that he’s dead already, Billy’s mind helpfully supplied, but he quickly cast the thought away. No. Tommy was alive, he knew it, he could feel it.

“Mm. I was just thinking.” Steve shrugged, before halting suddenly. Billy opened his mouth to say something, but Steve waved him off, nodding toward something in front of them. Billy followed his gaze, raising a brow, and–

 _Oh._ _  
_

“What the hell?” Billy muttered, more to himself than to Steve. “Is he…?”

“No idea.” Steve narrowed his eyes, tilted his head.

The scene playing out on the other side of the fence was both weird and grotesque at the same time. Tommy was sitting at the edge of the pool, cross-legged, extending his right arm. He clenched his hand into a fist and shook it, but didn’t move much otherwise. It was impossible to tell if he was completely out of it, or just very lost in thought.

“What is he _doing_ …”

“Jesus, he’s _your friend_ , go ask him,” Billy hissed.

Steve shot him a dirty look in response and swallowed, his eyes wandering down to the pool. It wasn’t empty, per se, anymore. As far as he could tell from this angle and the fleeting light of day, two Walkers were pressing themselves against the concrete pool wall, reaching up to Tommy, trying to get a hold of his feet and pull him down.  
Their moaning grew louder, more desperate when Tommy wiggled his fist again, before spreading his fingers and letting the blood trickle down his fingertips. He was aggravating them, Billy realized, grimacing.

“I knew you two would get along,” Tommy said without preamble, and then chuckled. He looked up, tilted his head to the left, and took a deep breath when he finally dared to meet Steve’s eyes. His Adam’s apple bobbed when he kept swallowing around the lump in his throat. “Shit… Steve, it’s… been a while, huh…”

“Yeah,” Steve said, slow and careful, drawing out the ‘eah’ as he subconsciously wrapped his fingers around Billy’s wrist. “Tommy, your arm… Did they– Are you…?”

“Nah, they didn’t get me. I’m not bit,” Tommy replied with a tired sigh and got to his feet, “I’m just really fucking stupid. I cut myself on the gate when I got back,” he gestured at something behind him, the gate, probably, then extended his arm toward Steve. “You can take a look, both of you. I’m not– not lying, I, shit, I wouldn’t do that.”

“Alright, I’ll take a look.” Billy nodded, then groaned at the vaguely-offended glare Tommy had shot him. Like he had any reason or right to be wary after his little display of– yeah, whatever that was.  
“To make sure it won’t get infected, _jackass_. I don’t know about you, but I don’t have any antibiotics on me, and an infection could kill you.” He raised his brows to make his point, then, “I _do_ believe you, and… I trust you.”

“Oh, okay…” Tommy blinked. “…thanks.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Billy shrugged, then glanced over to Steve and gently nudged him with his elbow. “I can’t feel my fingers anymore.”

“Ah– sorry.” Steve quickly let go of Billy, only now realizing that he’d held the other’s wrist in a viselike grip the whole time.

“I’ll live,” Billy smirked, handing Steve the horses’ reins, and then jogged over to the fence gate. It creaked ominously when he pushed against it with his right foot, before falling open. He waited until Steve had led the horses inside, then carefully shut it again. Tommy had probably cut himself on some warped metal, and Billy wasn’t too keen on sharing that experience.

“We shouldn’t stay here for long,” Steve said as he tended to the horses, his eyes trained on the forest line. “It’s not safe.”

“We won’t. Let me check his arm, then we can go.”

“Okay, but make it quick.” Steve’s shoulders were pulled back, his neck tight, and his body tense.  
Billy couldn’t see his face from where he was standing, but he was sure it was as stiff as the rest of him. He was waiting, watching, ready to fight, and defend.

“I will,” Billy said, then walked over to join Tommy by the pool. The other hadn’t moved an inch since they’d entered through the gate, and Billy figured Tommy didn’t know what to do or say. Steve had become quiet as well, distant even; more interested in the horses than in an old friend, it was odd.

“It’s good to see you again, I mean it.” Billy clasped Tommy on the shoulder, offering him a quick smile.

“You, too.” Tommy smiled back. Billy could see his eyes darting over to Steve again, and he knew what Tommy was looking for, so he gently squeezed his shoulder. When he felt Tommy’s gaze back on him, Billy met his eyes, sighed, and slowly shook his head– _No. I didn’t find her, couldn’t save her.  
_“Oh no…” Tommy rubbed between his eyes, swallowing thickly. He’d seen it coming, but he’d hoped, he’d wished for Billy to be lucky. “Shit… I’m sorry. When I saw Steve, I thought– fuck,” he shook his head, “I’m so sorry, Billy.”

“Thank you,” Billy whispered and grabbed Tommy’s wrist, making an effort to A) change the subject and B) to get a closer look at his arm. There was a gash on his forearm, alright, and it probably stung like hell. It definitely looked nasty, and Billy guessed it would need stitches.

“I’ve seen worse,” he murmured after a while.

“Where? On a dead man?” Tommy joked half-heartedly.

“Shut up, you’re not gonna die,” Billy grunted at the same time as Tommy shrugged; he was exhausted, pretty much dead on his feet. (He tried not to cringe at the phrase, mentally scratching it from his vocabulary.)

“I– I took care of, you know… _her_.” Tommy pressed his injured arm into his chest, relieved that Billy had let go of it. “And some others…,” he added, looking at Steve, who’d finally appeared by Billy’s side. He was still tense, but his eyes had become softer, never leaving Tommy’s.  
“Shit, what I did… I didn’t even think about it, but it must’ve looked… _bad_ …” He gestured toward the pool, then gave a helpless shrug. “Sorry…”

“Ah, _fuck it_.”

Billy blinked in surprise, and his gaze shifted to Steve, who’d pulled Tommy into a hug, careful not to hurt him further, tension bleeding out of him.  
About time, Billy thought and turned his head, suddenly _very interested_ in the horses. He couldn’t exactly leave, so this was the closest to privacy he could offer Steve and Tommy.

“It’s so good to see you,” Steve murmured into Tommy’s neck, smiling when he felt Tommy hugging him back.

“Y-Yeah…” Tommy pulled back, wanting to say more, but ended up burying his face in Steve’s shoulder again. He took a deep breath and tried to will the tears away, but it was no use.

“It’s okay,” Steve said, feeling his eyes prick. He cleared his throat and took a step back to wipe at his eyes and look up to the sky. “It’s getting dark. We need to move… and get your arm looked at. There’s a doctor at our community, he’s a good guy, he’ll take care of you.” Steve smiled and rubbed Tommy’s upper arm. “We’ll talk more later, I promise, but I- I can’t risk people going outside looking for me, so we really gotta go.”

“Where’re we going?” Tommy asked. He’d lowered his gaze and checked his belt, but Billy could tell his eyes were red-rimmed, and his cheeks were still wet from tears. “I’m pretty beat, so–”

“It’s not far from here. You’re gonna ride with Billy.”

“… _what?!_ ” Tommy took a step back. He probably would’ve fallen on his ass, too, if Billy hadn’t quickly caught him by the (non-injured) arm, steadying him.

“Um, is there a problem? I thought you two got along fine?”

“It’s not _him_ ,” Tommy grunted, and then gestured at the horses, “it’s them.” He frowned when Cash pushed his muzzle in Steve’s hand, nickering at his rider, tickling him with his whiskers. “They’re so… fucking weird with their stupid-big eyes, and… did you know they can actually smell fear?!”

Steve blinked at the same time as Billy’s mouth dropped open.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that, okay? I’m fine. I’m good, and I’m walking. Tell me where to meet you and–”

“Tommy. Get in the saddle,” Steve said with a certain finality in his tone that left Tommy wincing.  
Billy shot him a look that was part amusement part sympathy, he could relate to Tommy’s feelings to some degree. He wasn’t exactly scared of either Cash or Cinnamon, but still, given a chance, he would’ve gladly replaced them with something else. Preferably something with tires and an engine.

“You remember where the lab is, right?”

“Hawkins Lab? Serious– Ah, damn it-” Tommy let go of Billy’s hand when his jacket’s fabric rubbed over the injury. Cursing, he shook his arm.  
“God, I hate this,” he grumbled, watching the horse dancing on the spot. It hadn’t appreciated the sudden movement next to and underneath it, and Tommy could relate.

“It’s fine. You can do it,” Billy said, offering Tommy his hand again.

Steve watched with an amused glint in his eyes as Billy maneuvered Tommy behind him in the saddle, with the other wrapping his arms tightly around Billy’s waist, burying his face between his shoulder blades.  
(Billy would be handling the horse, and Tommy figured he could maybe squeeze his eyes shut and wait it out.)

“Wow, at least buy me a drink first,” Billy drawled, grinning.  
  
“ _Bite me_ ,” Tommy groaned miserably, tightening his grip some more before adding, “I remember the stupid lab, and I know where it is. Can we _please_ go?”

“Sure,” Steve grinned, squeezing his legs, urging Cash into a gallop.

Cinnamon quickly followed suit– much to Tommy’s dismay as he held on to Billy for dear life, while Billy cackled at him.  
  


****  
  
**

Billy hated nights in Indiana. It was cold, windy, and dark; it sucked, and he felt himself missing California again. (Not for the first time since entering Hawkins, no.)  
A strong wind blew around him, and he shuddered again. At least Tommy was still sitting behind him, sharing some of his body heat with him, so there was that.

“We’re almost there, don’t worry. And stay alert, there might be infected around here,” Steve said, looking around, urging Cash to run faster with a cluck. Cinnamon followed the stallion’s lead, and while Billy was slowly getting used to riding again, Tommy, at this point, actually looked stark white in the dark.

 _Please, don’t puke on me_ , Billy thought and patted the back of Tommy’s hand, trying to comfort him.

“STEVE?!”

“Yeah, it’s me!” Steve raised his hand to wave at the young man. “Open the gate.”

“On it.”

It creaked open a moment later, and Steve gestured for Billy and Tommy to follow him.

Billy let his eyes wander along the barbed-wire fence as Cinnamon trudged inside. It was high, at least ten feet, maybe even 15, and, as far as Billy could tell in the dark, ringed the whole place. This place. Whatever it was, or used to be before.

 _Hawkins Lab,_ Billy mused, his eyes darting over to Steve.

_That’s an awful lot of security for… a lab…_ _  
_

“Hey, how mad is he?” Steve asked, dismounting.

“Furious, but that doesn’t matter right now. El saw a herd earlier today, she– she said they were everywhere. Too many to count.” Lucas visibly shuddered at the thought. “Hopper wanted us underground an hour ago, I think he’s waiting by the elevator.”

“Great.” Steve bit his lip, chewed on it, then looked over his shoulder at Billy and Tommy.  
Tommy was pale, his skin glistening with sweat in the pale moonlight. His legs wobbled and Billy quickly steadied him to keep him from falling over. He needed a doctor, and Billy, too, probably.

“I wanted to talk to Hopper first but… I can’t leave them here. How close is that herd, anyway? Do you know? Does El know?” Steve was talking fast, expecting Lucas to keep up with him and fill eventual gaps for himself, before turning to Billy. “I know it’s _a lot_ , but trust me, please? It’ll be fine, just help him to the building.”

Billy nodded ‘alright,’ then pulled Tommy’s non-injured arm over his shoulder, supporting him as he followed Steve and Lucas up to the tall building looming in front of them. It was huge, the whole area was a lot to take in, and Billy could see the appeal in staying here. Clearing every room and floor of the building must’ve been a real bitch, though, and Billy briefly wondered how big Steve’s group actually was.

“Ten to twelve miles, huh… That’s… a little too close.” Steve smacked his lips. He’d led the horses to a small shelter, tethering them to a stunted tree. Both of them nickered softly at him, then bent their heads and started cropping at the grass.  
“Get some rest, you guys, you deserve it.” He smiled and scratched them behind their ears.

“Never knew Steve to be a… a horse-guy,” Tommy rasped.

“Neither did we,” Lucas offered. He kept his distance, and Billy couldn’t exactly blame him. “You’re Tommy, right? You were friends with Steve in high school, I remember you,” he said, then eyed Billy. “And you’re the guy from the clearing… I didn’t think you’d make it.”

“Yeah, I know. I remember your voice.”

“Oh. Well.” Lucas cleared his throat and adjusted the bow slung over his shoulder. “Can’t be too careful these days, it wasn’t anything personal.”

“It’s fine, I get it. And you killed that Walker that tried to get to me,” Billy said, shaking his head.  
Lucas was a bit shorter than him, definitely younger, probably around 18 or 19. The same age Max would’ve been now. It hurt to think about it. “You’re a damn good shot. So, thanks,” Billy paused, then added, “I’m Billy.”

“Uhm… Steve told me to, but sure, you’re welcome, I guess.”

Tommy shifted uncomfortably next to Billy. Even in his current state, he could tell that Billy’s little exchange with Lucas was awkward.

“Wow, he looks like shit– Wait, is he–”

“You really think I would’ve brought him here if he was? He’s hurt, exhausted, and he hates horses, that’s it. Here, let me...” Steve had made his way back to them, relieving Billy of Tommy’s weight as he flung the other’s arm around his shoulder.

“Don’t worry. Owens will have you patched up in no time,” he reassured his friend, and then guided the little group to the entrance of the building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know shit about horses but I did some research and yes, I'm Tommy and I'm actually scared of horses :') idk why  
> Comments and feedback are appreciated. 💖
> 
> Come and yell at me on [tumblr](https://hoegrove.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/hoegrove)! <3


	5. The Calm Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo~ :)  
> and yay for another update! I don't know what to say- thank you all for leaving kudos and/or commenting! Much appreciated <3  
> What can I say... soon, very soon. The title may be a less-than-subtle hint.
> 
> 💖 As always, thank you @[taerangi](https://taerangi.tumblr.com/) for the beta 💖  
>   
> 

__

_At times we crack only to let the light in._

The door banged open, hitting hard against the wall.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Jim barked as he stormed into the room, Steve following close on his heels.

“Look–”

“Risking your life like that! Roping Robin and Lucas into helping you, risking their lives as well,” he spat, burning holes into Steve with his eyes. “And if that wasn’t bad enough already, you brought them _here_.”

Hopper’s brow was furrowed as he shook his head in disbelief. “Why? Tell me, why would you bring those two guys here? I don’t give a damn what they told you; we know nothing about them, nothing! And now we can’t even throw them out again because of that damn herd. Jesus, they’d lead the Biters right to us, and then what?”

Steve opened his mouth, immediately closing it again when Hopper slammed his right fist down hard on the desk. An empty cup clinked from the impact and nearly fell over.

“I’ll tell you what, Harrington– we all die!” Hopper set his jaw, training his eyes on Steve. “You got lucky. I don’t think you realize just how lucky you got, because… that situation at the clearing? That could’ve been a trap, you would’ve walked right into it and then… you would’ve gotten yourself and your friends killed. Think about that.”

“Chief, can I just–”

“No,” Hopper said, raising his voice again as he stopped Steve mid-sentence, “listen to me now, Steve. Don’t talk, listen. Think. That’s a good rule of thumb for life.” He raised a brow at Steve and sighed, “I know, you wanna help, you’re good like that, always have been, but you can’t just be the good guy and expect to live. Not anymore.”

Jim drew a deep breath and walked over to Steve, putting his hand on his shoulder, firm yet somehow gentle at the same time. “I know what you’re thinking. You think you would’ve killed them if they’d tried anything, but see… that’s– that’s where you’re wrong. You wouldn’t have.”

“I– I don’t know.” Steve worried his lower lip between his teeth.

He’d saved Billy, kind of started to trust him (why? he didn’t know), and killing Tommy had never been on the table in the first place.

Jim squeezed his shoulder, pulling Steve out of his thoughts. “I do. Biters aren’t the only threat out there, Steve, never forget that, and– don’t be stupid. Stupid gets you killed.”

The room fell silent after that. Hopper broke his gaze away from Steve, let go of his shoulder, and padded back to the desk to throw his jacket over a chair’s armrest. Part of him was still angry, tense, but now Steve could also see that there were bags under his eyes.

“I’m glad you made it back in one piece, you know?” Hopper rubbed at a spot between his eyes, before plopping down on the chair behind his desk, gesturing for Steve to take the other.

“Tell me about them. They’re here now, and we can’t change that, so… what do we actually know?”

“Thanks, Hop.” Steve nodded, slightly embarrassed. He turned the chair around and rested his arms on the backrest. “You probably won’t remember Tommy Hagan? We grew up together and used to be best friends till high school, then we fell out and never talked again. He moved to– I don’t even know where after graduation, and… yeah, now he’s back. Obviously.”

Steve shrugged, looking up at Hopper. “He was with– with his girlfriend, Carol Perkins?” The former chief of police shook his head. He didn’t remember them at all, and Steve hadn’t expected him to.

“Carol didn’t make it… Tommy was on his own, looking for me. I don’t even know why, he just did.”

“You trust him?”

“Uhm, yeah. I guess.” Steve shrugged again.

Hopper hummed, turning the cup between his hands. “And the other one? What about him?”

“Billy. He’s… uh– a soldier. Not really the talkative type, but he told me about the QZs in DC, how he helped set them up. He came here looking for someone, his sister. Said he had nowhere else to go after the Zones were overrun,” Steve summarized, and Hopper raised a brow.

“His sister, huh? Did he give you a name?”

“Uh– I didn’t exactly ask…”

“Jesus, Steve, how’re you still such a _rookie_?” Hopper rolled his eyes good-naturedly at the other, before clearing his throat, sobering up again.

“I’m going to talk to him tomorrow– to both of them. See if I like what they have to say,” Jim said, “but, ah… we’re running low on medicine as it is, especially antibiotics. Taking in more people, I don’t know… even if it’s just these two, it might be too much for us to handle.”

Steve smacked his lips in response. “They’re no deadweight, Hop. They know how to survive out there, how to handle Biters,” he shrugged, “We could use the help.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Good,” Steve said, trying to stifle a yawn as he rolled his shoulders.

“Ah, Chief? About that herd– what exactly did El say? What’d she see?” Steve asked, and then almost as an afterthought added, “Is she alright?”

“Mm-mm. She’s resting, Joyce and Will are keeping an eye on her but… yeah. She was freaked. She said they were everywhere, and the herd only kept on growing. Too many to fight, too thick to get through,” Hopper bit his lip, and Steve blanched at the thought.

“We absolutely cannot risk drawing their attention. We’ll stay down here and wait it out. Should something happen– should they head this way, after all, we gotta be prepared to leave this place. I told the others, and they’re packing their stuff just in case. You should, too.”

“I will, yeah. You need me up on the roof? I can take the first shift.”

“Nah, you need to get some rest, Harrington. Newby’s keeping watch.”

“What, Bob?” Steve blinked and then chuckled. “Alright… okay, if he’s up to it, fine.”

He pushed himself up from the chair and listened to the cracking of his joints as he stretched his arms up over his head, twisting his neck and head from one side to the other.

“Guess I’ll turn in for the night then. Or maybe– I should go check on Billy and Tommy, see if they’re okay.”

Hopper snorted and rolled his eyes. “Oh please… they’ll live. I had Owens cuff your friend to a bed in the infirmary, and Benny locked the other in a room with a cot, a shower, and hot water. Believe me, they’re _more than okay_.”

He’s not wrong, Steve mused, smiling to himself.  
Tommy was probably fast asleep by now, given how exhausted he’d been. Riding Cinnamon had taken quite a toll on him, and Steve knew Tommy would need some peace and quiet to grief and to come to terms with Carol’s death.

As for Billy, it was hard to tell; he’d gone willingly if a bit reluctantly with Benny after handing back the machete to Steve.

“Hey, before I go… How- how’s Florence? I’ve been meaning to ask but–”

“Owens made sure she’s comfortable, but it won’t be long now.” Hopper breathed out audibly. “You can go see her if you want to– the kids, too. They were worried, you know?”

Steve just nodded in response, unsure of what else to say, still processing Hopper’s words. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, then left the room.  
  


****  
  
**

Billy wiped the steam off the mirror with his hand and stared at himself, not blinking. Only when the glass started to fog up, he realized he’d barely been breathing this whole time. His lungs ached, and his eyes burned.

_At least she never had to see me like that._

He reached for a hand towel, wiped the glass, and then ran his hands over his cheeks down to his chin. When was the last time he’d shaved anyway? He didn’t know, couldn’t remember; he’d cut his beard once or twice to make sure it wouldn’t grow too long, but nothing more. (He just hadn’t cared enough to do more, simple as that.)

The mirror had fogged up again, and one part of Billy was glad he didn’t have to face himself anymore, but the other grew impatient, and a bit annoyed. He wiped the glass with his hand, not bothering to reach for the towel, leaving streaks and smudges. They made him look deformed, only adding to the nightmare that was his reflection.

His eyes were bloodshot, his cheeks had sunk for lack of proper (let alone regular) meals, and his hair, though now at least freshly washed, had gotten longer than Billy had expected. He ran his fingers through the tangle of curls and growled when his unruly hair refused to cooperate.

_Just shave it all off, get rid of it. It’ll grow back._

Billy sighed and shook his head. No, he still couldn’t bring himself to actually shave his head.

He opened the medicine cabinet above the sink. There wasn’t much in there, except for a few things the guy who’d led him to _his_ room had left for him: Two aspirin in a bottle, scissors, a toothbrush, and toothpaste.

Billy had brushed his teeth for what seemed like an hour after the guy – _Benny_ , his mind supplied – had left the night before. Benny had told him to take a hot shower, sleep, and wait; Steve would come back in the morning to get him, and _maybe_ explain some things.

“Anytime now, pretty boy,” Billy muttered as he grabbed the scissors and carefully began trimming his beard. Patches of hair fell in the sink, and Billy stopped to look at his reflection after a while. It was alright, he figured. He’d cut it tight to his skin and wouldn’t need to shave.

“Now what?” He asked his reflection, his eyes darting between the scissors and his hair. He could still do it, there was time. Nobody was waiting for him to get ready, so–

There was a knock on the door.

Billy smirked and reached for the towel he’d used to dry himself off, wrapping it around himself as he left the bathroom.

Another knock.

“Just come in,” Billy called out, wondering why Steve had bothered to knock in the first place. The door was locked, he’d heard Benny doing it, too, and, truth be told, Billy had seen it coming.

A few seconds later, Billy heard a _click_ , and the door opened, revealing–

Not Steve. _Definitely not Steve_.

“Uhm–” Billy blinked at the woman, tried to think of something to say, but then closed his mouth again.

She was tiny, Billy thought. It was hard to tell, but she was probably around the age of the guy Steve had been fighting with a few hours ago.

She offered him a smile, and Billy gave a strained tentative smile in return despite himself.

“Hey,” she said.

“Uh… hi?”

“I’m Joyce. I brought you some clothes, thought you might need them.”

“Oh– uhm, thanks? I mean, thank you, that’s… that’s great, yeah,” Billy said, baffled. “Billy. My name’s Billy.”

“Yeah, I know. Benny told me.” Joyce chuckled. “You need to get dressed, it’s cold down here.”

She held up the plastic crate to him that had been resting on her hip and waited, her eyes darting to the bruises on his chest and right shoulder. They were still a deep purple-blue, almost black in some places.

“Oh dear… you should let Owens check you out, make sure everything’s okay,” she sighed, “What happened?”

Billy shrugged, grabbed a few things, and made a beeline to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

“I’ve had worse,” he said as he pulled on the clean pair of shorts. “I… I fell into a pool, didn’t see it in the dark.”

The jeans were a little snug on his ass and thighs, but it was nothing he couldn’t manage. Besides, the smell of fresh and clean laundry made up for it, and Billy had to stop himself from burying his face in the sweater.

“The fall could’ve killed you. I’m glad it didn’t.”

“You are…?” Billy opened the door after pulling the black sweater over his head. “Why?”

“Why not?” Joyce shrugged.

“You don’t even know me, or what I’ve done…”

“That’s true,” Joyce hummed, “but I can tell you’re not a bad person, and Hopper will, too.”

_Right_. He’d have to talk to the man again, sooner or later, but Billy wasn’t particularly thrilled about it. “Alright,” he said.

“It’ll be fine, I promise.” Joyce smiled again, then tilted her head a little. “You know, I could give you a cut first if you want. It might help you feel normal again.”

“Yeah…” Billy snorted a laugh, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, “… sure, why not.”  
  


****  
**

Electricity, hot showers, and haircuts.

Billy still had a hard time wrapping his head around it all, so he’d been grateful Joyce had done most of the talking while cutting his hair, trimming it short at the back of his head. She’d told him about her son, the people living in the lab, and even a bit about Hopper and Steve.

Hopper, Billy’d learned, had been the Chief of Police and was now _kind of_ in charge of things around here.

And Steve, _well_ , Billy hadn’t seen it coming, but in retrospect, he supposed he maybe should’ve, even could’ve expected it. After graduating and working some low-wage jobs, Steve had entered the Police Academy.

Without the blessing his parents, of course, but with Hopper’s help, Joyce had elaborated. And Billy had nodded along, unsure of what to do with that piece of information; he filed it away for later all the same.

“It’s such a shame he never got to graduate. When things started to get bad around here, too, he came back. That was two days before… well...,” Joyce trailed off and folded her arms in front of her chest while leading Billy down a lengthy hallway. 

“Everything went to hell?” Billy supplied.

Joyce hummed in response, then fell silent.

After a while, they reached a wooden door near the end of the hallway, and Billy let his eyes wander over the walls, which were tiled up all the way to the ceiling in a muted white. One tile had an ugly crack across the middle; it looked like something done by an angry or impatient child.

“Hop?” Joyce rapped at the door and, without waiting for an answer, opened it. “Hey,” she offered Hopper a smile, then turned to Billy, ushering him into the room.

“Joyce, _what the hell_ is he doing here?!”

“Well, he’s with me?” Joyce furrowed her brow as if to say, ‘Isn’t that obvious?’ then shrugged and shifted her gaze to Steve. She greeted him with a smile and a wave, then walked over to him. “Aww, there you are, sweetie. I thought I’d find you here, you really missed Steve, huh?” Joyce chuckled and rubbed the little girl’s back.

_What is that? A kid? He has a fucking kid?! Oh my god, why?_

Billy had a hard time controlling his expression as he watched the interaction between Steve, Joyce, and the octopus camouflaged as a kid. Seriously, she wouldn’t have been able to cling more to Steve had she tried.

(And no, Billy didn’t hate kids; he’d tried to tolerate them, too, but their smell? Their nonstop blabbering? The few kids he’d met in the QZ really drained him forever, it seemed.)

“Yeah…, and I kinda had to swear not to leave again anytime soon.” Steve laughed and leaned forward, planting a soft kiss on the kid’s temple. “Would you please take her for now?”

“Of course.” Joyce nodded as Steve carefully handed her the girl.

“Hey Holly,” she cooed, rocking her gently. “Time to go, baby.”

_Yes, take it away…_ Billy thought, chewing the inside of his cheek.

He watched Joyce pecking Hopper’s cheek and quickly nodded at her before she left the room.

“So.” Steve cleared his throat, interrupting the somewhat awkward silence that had settled between them. He smiled at Billy, then plopped back down on his chair and patted the one next to him. “You look… different. It’s not too bad.” 

“I guess.” Billy shrugged, his eyes not leaving Hopper. “Now what?”

“ _Now_ ,” Hopper smacked his lips, “we have a little chat. Sit.”

Billy nodded, careful and slow, then padded over to Steve. He wouldn’t admit it, but part of him was grateful that Steve was here. Hopper didn’t seem unreasonable, now that he’d calmed down, but still– Billy didn’t know him, whereas he’d gotten to know Steve a bit already.

“I’m guessing Joyce told you some things about us– our community, and how we live here,” Jim said. “My name’s Jim Hopper, you probably know that already.” He leaned forward and folded his arms on the desk. “I’m gonna ask you a few questions, and I need you to answer honestly, okay?”

Billy nodded ‘yes,’ and Hopper continued, “How many Biters have you killed?”

“How many–” Billy breathed out audibly as he let his head fall back. There was no way of giving Hopper a number; it was impossible. “I– I don’t know. Too many to keep track, that’s for sure.”

“Mm-mm. Steve told me that you’re a soldier and that you were in DC, so I figured.” Hopper nodded. “It’s fine. Next question: how many people have you killed?”

“… four.”

“Why?”

“They were bit,” Billy sighed, “they asked me to do it because they… they couldn’t.” He looked up, closed his eyes, and shook his head. “But… that’s only three of them, I– I killed a guy on my way here. He attacked me and… I stopped him.”

“Alright. Thank you.” Hopper leaned back again, thinking. “And now you’re here… looking for your family, your sister, right? What else can you tell us about yourself?”

Billy averted his gaze, looking at the table while trying to figure out what to tell Hopper. One emotional outburst per day was enough. He didn’t care to repeat the experience, no.

“I don’t–”

“Kid, I know. I get it, but… you have to let yourself feel it.”

Blinking, Billy looked up again.

“The people you lost– you can’t ignore the pain forever. It’ll eat you up.”

“Don’t expect me to break into a song about it,” Billy grumbled as he sank back in his chair. He felt Steve’s gaze on him, he’d felt it for a while now, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet his eyes.

“Alright, look… I was born and raised in San Diego, California, till dear old dad sent me to a military boarding school. I haven’t been home since.”

He swallowed. “I joined the military after graduating… _hooah_ …” Billy chuckled mirthlessly, rolling his eyes. “I was stationed at Fort Benning then, Fort Lewis later… and I was there when everything went tits up at the Zones.”

“So… you came here. Did you find her?”

“Mm-mm…” Billy bit his thumb, looking nowhere in particular.

“You put her down?”

“Hop, don’t–” Steve tried to butt in but was cut off when Billy waved his hand at him, leaning toward Hopper.

“I didn’t, okay?” he hissed. “You wanna know why? Because there wasn’t enough left of her to come back! I– only found what– what my father left of her!” Angry tears started to form in his eyes and rolled down over his cheeks.

“I’m sorry.”

Billy snorted as he sank back again, wiping at his eyes.

“What was her name?” Steve asked. He’d asked before, but now, maybe, he’d actually get an answer. “What about your dad? We could go and get them if you want. As soon as the herd’s passed, I’d go with you… help you bury them.”

“Bury them? _Them_?” Billy snarled. “No. No, that fucker got what he deserved. Let him rot, I don’t give a fuck.” He looked over to Steve, hesitated for a second, then, “Max. Her name was Maxine, but she went by Max.”

“Max…?” Steve repeated, blinking. It was a coincidence, nothing more; it had to be. But still, he needed to make sure. “Dude, your dad– his name wasn’t Hargrove, was it? Neil Hargrove?”

“That’s him, yeah.”

“Oh my god.” Steve got up from the chair, bringing some distance between him and Billy as Hopper raised a questioning brow at him.

“You knew him?”

“Well, yeah. You did, too, Chief.” Steve snorted. “Remember the asshole I decked for going after the Sinclairs? I broke his nose, and you put me in detention for the night… that’s the guy.” He put his hands on his hips and looked at Billy.

It was easy to see that Billy had no idea what Steve was going on about, and how could he, but he did seem _very_ pleased about the thought of someone kicking his dad’s ass.

“Jesus.” Hopper shook his head as recognition dawned on him.

“Look–” Billy took a deep breath, “I– don’t know what he did to that family, but I know he was an asshole, and I’m sorry you had to deal with him.” He swallowed thickly. “I didn’t care about finding him, I just– just wanted to get Max outta here, but… he got to her before I could.”

“You don’t have to apologize for your father,” Hopper said and shifted his gaze to Steve, waiting.

“Man, you should’ve told me sooner. Would’ve saved yourself a whole lot of pain, too.” Steve rubbed his face with both hands, before looking Billy in the eye. “She got away.”

Billy’s eyes widened, and even his heart seemed to miss a beat when Steve continued,

“Max is alive.”  
  


**  
  


_Max is alive._

_She got away._

_El found her. Whatever that’s supposed to mean…_

A cup appeared in his peripheral vision, and Billy jerked back, his eyes blinking, unfocused.

“Coffee.” Steve sat down next to Billy on the old raggedy picnic blanket they’d put up on the roof of the lab, still holding his own mug between his hands, trying to keep them warm.

It was getting dark again, and with the wind picking up, it was a bit chilly. Especially if you were to sit on top of a pretty tall building; there wasn’t much protection from the wind, either, and even the sun had proven to be a problem a few months ago. (Sunburn was no joke, nope.)

“Black?” Billy asked.

“Is there any other way to drink it?”

“Nah,” Billy half-snorted, half-laughed, and picked up the cup. The dark liquid sloshed around as he moved, and Billy took a moment to enjoy and appreciate the smell of the freshly made coffee.

“Steve,” he started, then stopped to take a sip, “what is all this? That girl? El? And this place…,” Billy trailed off, shaking his head, hoping Steve could shed some light.

“I don’t know what to tell you.” Steve pulled his legs up to his chest and hugged his arms around them. “There’s a lot, and I only know so much.” He looked over to Billy, who just nodded for him to continue.

“The lab’s always been here, ever since I can remember. When we were kids, Tommy and I tried to sneak in once but,” Steve rolled his eyes, “Tommy fell off the fence and broke his collarbone. Man, our parents were so mad, you have no idea.”

He reached for his mug, drank from it, and set it down again. “I get it now– why they were so mad.”

“It’s not that hard to figure out, you trespassing little shit.”

“Hey–” Steve elbowed Billy in the side, laughing. “That’s not what I was talking about, asshole… Jesus…” He grinned, then cleared his throat, trying to sober up. “Look, there were some rumors in the 50s and 60s… about children being abducted and experimented on. Nobody could ever prove it, until…”

“Until?”

“Ah, this is gonna sound really crazy…”

“Crazy, huh?” Billy waved toward the handrail of the roof and their general surroundings. “The dead are literally walking among us. I don’t think it gets much crazier than that.”

“I guess…” Steve sighed. “Alright. I’ve told you about El and how she found Max… well, she’s the living proof of these experiments. Her real name’s Jane but she goes by El because that’s what they used to call her. Eleven.  
”He paused to let his words sink in for a moment, then continued, “She was raised in the lab. I don’t know how she escaped. She rarely talks about what happened to her and… we try not to ask. Anyway, Hopper took her in, hid her… That’s when he met Owens, I think. He used to work here but wasn’t part of the experiments, as least that’s what he said.”

“What the hell…?” Billy swallowed. “How does she even find people?”

“Dunno. She sees things in her mind, calls it The Void, or something.” Steve shrugged. “She can feel them, too. When there’s enough of them, she– she just knows and goes to look for them. I didn’t believe it at first, either, but she’s warned us before.”

“Well, shit. I was wrong, it actually did get crazier.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Steve shot him a lopsided smirk and got back on his feet, to walk over to the edge of the roof. He picked up the binoculars, pressed them to his eyes and off in the distance, he could see the herd moving. From afar, they looked like ants; Steve was glad he couldn’t actually hear them.

“You think… she could find Max again?” Billy appeared next to Steve.

“I guess? She’d have to try,” Steve muttered. “All I know is, that she can’t do it right now. She’s still exhausted from keeping an eye on them, and… we kinda need her to keep doing that till the herd’s passed. There’re children here, elderly people we gotta protect.”

When Billy opened his mouth, Steve quickly raised a hand, stopping him before he could even get a word out.

“I get it, okay? You wanna find Max, but you have to be smart about it. Going out there right now? You’re dead. Also…” Steve tilted his head, “you have no idea where to start. They’ll be gone in a week, maybe sooner, and then we can ask El for help.”

“I can’t wait that long, I’m–”

“Dude, it’s not just your life you’d put on the line. You think we stay in the underground complex because it’s fun? We can’t risk drawing their fucking attention, alright? We’d be trapped down there, and that’s the best-case scenario.” Steve pushed the binoculars in Billy’s hands and jerked his head to the side.

“Take a look, go on,” he prompted, raising both brows. “I saved your ass, and I brought you here. You owe me.”

_Bossy asshole_ , Billy grumbled, tapping his fingers on the binoculars.

He wouldn’t admit it, but Steve was right. He needed to stay alive, now more than ever. Besides, it was true, he didn’t have any idea where to start looking.

“I hate it,” Billy sighed, “but okay, we’ll do it your way, _King_ Steve.”

“Ah, man– fuck you,” Steve grinned as he tried to elbow Billy again.

This time, Billy caught him easily enough and yanked Steve forward, until there were only millimeters separating them. Steve’s breath hitched when Billy tilted his head and leaned in, whispering, “Don’t threaten me with a good time, pretty boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooah: a battle cry used by soldiers in the U.S. army
> 
> Comments and feedback are appreciated. 💖  
> 
> 
> Come and yell at me on [tumblr](https://hoegrove.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/hoegrove)! <3


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